Burning Down the House
by Katertots
Summary: Rachel Berry and Noah Puckerman have a fiery first encounter that leads to an unlikely friendship and maybe something more. Set in New York City, this future AU fic also features Rachel's friendship with Quinn and Kurt, and Puck's best friend, Finn.
1. The Roof, the roof, the roof is on fire

**Author's Note: **This plot bunny wouldn't leave me alone, so I had to start this new fic. A little background: Rachel, Quinn and Kurt are all best friends and have been since middle school. They grew up in Ohio and went to a private school. Puck and Finn are also best friends and went to William McKinley in Lima. All five of them now reside in New York City. I hope that you enjoy this little A/U that I've created.

Many thanks to Mandy, Jenna and Luci for being my sounding boards. :)

* * *

As days went, twenty-six year old Rachel Berry didn't count this one among the top hundred—maybe even the top thousand. Thick gray smoke billowed up the stairs as the other residents of her building ran hysterically down towards street level seeking fresh air and safety. The smoke alarms buzzed so loudly in her ears she could barely hear herself think. She raised a fist to her neighbor's door and knocked frantically, knowing the elderly woman was hard of hearing—especially since she was wont to turn down her hearing aid at night so she wasn't disturbed by noise. "Mrs. Weigel! Mrs. Weigel, it's Rachel. Please—open the door! Fire! Mrs. Weigel, the building is on FIRE!" she screeched, pounding furiously on the door. Rachel continued her incessant knocking and yelling until she heard the locks being undone. _Thank God_.

"Hello, dear," Mrs. Weigel slowly greeted, turning up the volume on her hearing aid. "Is everything alright?"

"No, Mrs. Weigel. There's a fire—our building is on fire," she spoke loudly, her words laced with panic. "Let me help you downstairs." Rachel barged into her apartment and grabbed a jacket hanging on a nearby coat rack and threw it around the woman's shoulders. "Come on." She gently grabbed her arm and led her down the stairs.

The smoke seemed to thin the closer they got to ground level and Rachel did her level best to hurry the elderly woman to safety. They rounded the corner on the final staircase when Mrs. Weigel stopped in her tracks. "Samson! I need to get Samson, dear."

Rachel's brows furrowed together, remembering that Samson was her cat. "We need to get out of the building. It isn't safe," Rachel implored. She really had no clue where the fire had originated or how bad it was, but she wasn't going to take her chances. Rachel was all for doing good deeds, but even she had her limits. She wasn't willing to risk her life—her career—for an ugly one-eyed cat with a limp.

"Please, Rachel," she pleaded, eyes welling. "He was a gift from my Morty—the only thing I have left."

She was _thisclose_ to telling her where to shove the damn cat when her old neighbor gave her the saddest expression she'd ever seen, and she felt the tug at her heartstrings. "I'll get him," Rachel suddenly blurted, surprising herself. "Go downstairs now!"

"Oh, thank you, thank you, Rachel," she called to Rachel's retreating form.

"Goddammit," she bit out, racing up the stairs two at a time towards her floor. She couldn't believe her idiocy—running through a burning building for a _fucking cat_. Rachel decided that this good deed was surely worth a lot of good karma. And really, how long would it take to grab a cat and run back downstairs? The smoke wasn't really all _that_ bad she thought as she rounded the last corner.

*~*~*

Noah Puckerman was having a bad fucking day and his mood could only be classified as shitty. It seemed as though everything that could possibly have gone wrong had, ranging from no hot water in his apartment that morning to the captain jumping all over his ass for something stupid. And thrown somewhere in the middle, a long nagging lecture from his mother about settling down and giving her grandchildren. _"You're twenty-eight, Noah…"_ she'd said. Like that made him fucking old or something. He loved his mother, but _fuck that mess._ He wanted to find a girl and marry her about as much as he wanted to contract the clap, which was not at all.

Even now, as the sirens wailed into the night, the fire engine speeding through the city, he failed to get the rush he normally got heading to put out a fire and that only served to piss him off even more. Adrenaline usually coursed through his veins the moment the signal sounded and tended to intensify the closer they got to their destination. The only thing coursing through his veins at the moment was the urge to punch something. When his best buddy, Finn, looked across the rig and flashed a goofy grin, he thought he'd make a good target.

"Come on, dude," Finn said, fastening his helmet as the rig pulled up to the burning building. "This is usually your favorite part of any day."

"Fucking bite me, Hudson," Puck snapped, shoving his own helmet onto his head and jumping out of the truck.

The fire didn't look too extreme at first glance, but six years of on-the-job experience had taught him never to underestimate the unpredictable nature of a fire. They could turn on a dime and engulf you in the depths of a raging inferno. Fire and women were a lot alike in that regard, which is why he chose sex and fighting fires over relationships any day of the week.

He hitched his rescue gear up on his shoulder and headed for the entrance when an old lady with gray hair stood in his path. "Move along, ma'am," he said shortly.

"My neighbor—she ran in after my cat and hasn't come back out. You need to get her. Please," she pleaded. "I won't be able to forgive myself if she's not okay."

Puck sighed and fought the urge to roll his eyes. Idiots like that attributed to way too many deaths by fire. "What's your neighbor's name?"

"Rachel," Mrs. Weigel replied. "Rachel Berry. I live in 5B, she lives across the hall. She ran in after Samson."

"We'll do a sweep for her and any other residents. Go stand over there," he gestured across the street. She shuffled away and he muttered a string of obscenities under his breath. Of course this would happen to him. Nothing else had fucking gone right today, so why start now?

*~*~*

"Get out here, you stupid cat," Rachel called, reaching under the couch for Samson. "God, this was a really stupid idea. Why did I voluntarily run back into a burning building for this ugly thing?" Samson hissed and scratched at her hand, making her yelp and jerk back. She looked down and saw three bloody scratch marks on her hand. "Thanks a lot, you little bastard." Spotting one of his toys on the floor, she reached for it and attempted to tease him out of hiding. "Please, Samson," Rachel said softly. "Here, kitty kitty." His paw batted at the toy and Rachel held her breath. _Almost there._

The door flew open and Rachel screamed; Samson hissed and went back into hiding. She scrambled to her feet and saw the fireman standing in the doorway. "Jesus Christ—you scared the _shit_ out of me," she scolded, turning quickly back towards Samson. She frowned when she saw that the cat had retreated back under the couch. "Dammit!"

Puck wasn't sure exactly what he'd expected Rachel Berry to look like, but it damn sure wasn't the young, petite brunette before him. Someone that age should have enough goddamn sense to _flee_ a burning building. He felt momentarily sorry for scaring her when she screamed, but then he seethed when she went back to looking for the cat. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" he yelled.

Rachel stopped her movement and turned her head slowly to look at him. "Excuse me?" she asked, baffled.

"Pretty sure you heard me, but I'll speak more slowly in case you're impaired in some way. Your building—is—on fire. Let's go."

"Thank you for the tip. I know there's a fire. I almost had the damn thing until you came and kicked the door in and scared him, and me, half to death."

Puck threw up his hands in amazement. Was she honestly that stupid? "Lady, let's go. It's a cat—no one cares."

"My neighbor cares." Rachel dropped to her tummy and reached under the couch for Samson. "I've almost got him."

"You're fucking insane," he mumbled, lifting up the end of the couch so she could grab the cat. Once she had a hold of him and got to her feet, he tossed her over his shoulder.

"What are you doing?" Rachel squeaked. "I'm perfectly capable of walking," she said, squirming in his grasp as he descended the stairs.

"Are you capable of thinking?" he snapped angrily. "What kind of idiot goes back into a burning building for a cat? Do you have a brain rattling around between your ears at all? Jesus fucking Christ!"

"You're the rudest person I've ever met in my entire life. Aren't you supposed to be kind and helpful? Put me down!" She tried to wriggle free, but he only held on more tightly.

"Believe me, I'd like nothing more than to drop you on your ass—or maybe your head to see if that would knock some sense into you—but as you pointed out, I'm here to help. So stop yapping for a goddamn minute and you'll be out of here and I can get to my real job."

Rachel opened her mouth to yell back at him, but she inhaled a cloud of smoke and started coughing.

"See, you could have avoided the smoke inhalation if you had used your pea brain for a goddamn second and thought '_Gee, the building is on fire, I should leave now,'_" he mocked harshly.

She seethed inside, unable to reply due to her coughing fit. Samson was pissed and kept scratching at her, but she'd be damned if she let him go. If she had to endure this fireman's berating and questioning her mental capacity, she was going to have something to show for her decision.

He carried her down the last few steps and out of the building where Rachel gulped in a greedy breath of fresh air. She spotted Mrs. Weigel hurrying as fast as she could over to her. "Oh Samson!" she exclaimed, nuzzling her cat. "Thank you, Rachel. Thank you, thank you so much."

Rachel could only nod as another coughing fit took hold. _Great. Just what my voice needs._ "You can put me down now," she ordered as he marched her over to the ambulance.

Puck dropped her unceremoniously down to her feet by the paramedics. He nodded to Patrick and Bart. "This idiot probably has smoke inhalation." He spotted blood on her hands and felt the tiniest bit sorry for the verbal abuse he'd been heaping on her. That is until she whirled around to glare at him and he finally got a good look at her. She was—_hot._ Stunning, even. He didn't care at all for the quick flip his stomach did as she stared murderously at him with her rich brown eyes. That little flip sent him right back to pissed. "Take care of her, I've got work to do," he said gruffly and walked away.

"Have a seat," Bart told her, then placed an oxygen mask on her face.

"No, no," Rachel shook her head. "I don't need that, I'm fine," she insisted.

"Look, ma'am, we won't be rude to you the way Puck was—"

"_Puck_?" Rachel queried.

Patrick grinned. "Yeah, Noah Puckerman. Goes by Puck around here. As my partner here was saying, just let us do our jobs…please?"

Rachel sighed, realizing how difficult she was being. "Of course, I'm sorry." She took the oxygen mask and held it to her face and breathed deeply, feeling the oxygen soothe her lungs. After they cleaned the scratches Samson had given her as a show of gratitude, and she'd given them all the necessary information for their incident report, she pulled out her cell phone.

"_What's shakin' bacon?" _

"Hey, Quinn," Rachel smiled into the phone. "Listen, I have a favor."

"_Sure, what's up?"_

"My building's on fire and I don't know how bad it is or when—if—I'll be able to go home." The thought of losing her home and all of her belongings finally sank in and voice grew tight with tears.

"_Oh, my God! Are you okay? I mean, you're physically okay aren't you?"_

She decided not to fill in her best friend about her act of bravery just yet. "Yes, I'm fine. I just need a place to stay—maybe borrow some clothes."

"_Of course. I was on my way to meet Kurt for a drink. I'll get him and we'll come get you."_

"You don't have to do that I can just—"

"_We're on our way. Don't argue!"_

Rachel pulled the phone away from her ear once Quinn had clicked off and shoved it back in her pocket. Leaning back against the gurney, she watched as the crew of men worked quickly and efficiently to douse the flames that threatened to destroy her home.

*~*~*

Puck and Finn exited the building, the fire having been extinguished, and began rolling up the hoses. Finn watched his friend, who'd had a scowl on his face the entire day, only now it seemed even more intense. "Puck, seriously—what is your deal today?"

"Nothing," he grumbled.

Finn shook his head. "I've known you since we were eight. I'm not really buying that sorry excuse, dude."

He shot his friend a look that clearly stated he didn't want to talk about it, and Finn backed off.

"So—the venue for our gig tomorrow night is supposed to draw a lot of cougars."

Puck smirked at Finn. "Shut up, asshole," he said with a laugh, throwing his gear back onto the rig. He saw Patrick and Bart out of the corner of his eye and that made him wonder about the brunette he'd forced from his mind earlier. He'd been a real asshole to her and while she'd acted stupidly, she hadn't really deserved that. She'd made an easy target though. He decided after all of the gear was packed up, he'd go and check on her—and that was only because he'd been unusually dickish—it had absolutely nothing to do with her looks. Nothing whatsoever.

*~*~*

"Rachel!" Quinn called.

Rachel turned at the sound of her friend's voice and smiled, relieved to see her two best friends rushing towards her. She took off the oxygen mask and hopped off the gurney, only to be engulfed by two sets of arms.

"You said you weren't hurt," Quinn admonished. "Why are you on oxygen and why is your hand bandaged?"

"I'm fine, really," Rachel insisted, tucking her hair back behind her ears. Quinn leveled her with an arched eyebrow and Kurt with his crossed arms and no-nonsense look. "Mrs. Weigel's cat was still in the apartment and she was so sad about it—"

"Oh, Divalicious—you didn't!" Kurt scolded.

Rachel's cheeks reddened. "I'm fine, I promise. I got Samson, a fireman carried me out, no harm, no foul."

"A fireman had to carry you out?" Quinn asked, incredulous. "Rachel!"

"Was he hot?" Kurt inquired, only to get an elbow to the ribs from Quinn and a withering look from Rachel. "What?"

"I didn't _need_ to be carried out, he was pissed off that I was searching for the cat and not leaving the building, so he—carried me out by force, I suppose."

"Why do these things never happen to me?" Kurt wondered.

"Because unlike _Rachel_, you have the sense to not run back into a burning building," Quinn remarked. "You're an idiot, Rachel Berry! You could've been killed."

"I know, I know," she sighed, resigned. "But I promise, I'm fine. Aren't I, boys?" she asked the two paramedics.

Patrick and Bart exchanged amused glances. "Yeah, she's fine," Patrick said. "Talks a lot though, this one."

Quinn and Kurt chuckled. "That she does," Kurt agreed.

"Am I free to go?" Rachel asked.

"Yep," Bart said. "Just sign this accident report and you're good to go."

Rachel scrawled her name on the bottom line and smiled at the two men. "Thanks for taking such great care of me—even if I didn't really need it."

"All in a day's work, lady," Patrick smirked.

"Let's go," Rachel said, turning back to her friends.

"If you think that you've already gotten the lecture, you're sorely mistaken," Quinn said, wrapping an arm around Rachel's shoulders.

Rachel sighed, both grateful and slightly annoyed to have such amazing friends.

*~*~*

Once Puck and Finn and the rest of the crew had all of their gear stowed away, Puck made his way over to the ambulance. He spotted Patrick and Bart, but didn't see any sign of the brunette from earlier. The pang of disappointment he felt was quick and shocking, and much like the flip from earlier, he didn't care one iota for it. "Hey," he called to the paramedics.

"Hey, Puck," Bart said, packing up medical supplies.

"Sup, man?" Patrick greeted. "Looking for the girl you rescued?"

"Nope," he lied.

"Well, she's fine. Her friends just came by to get her."

"Whatever. Hopefully they take her and get her head checked out. That girl is a moron," he said gruffly, and walked away.

To be continued...

Feedback = love, so please let me know what you think. Good, bad, or indifferent, whatever. :)


	2. C is for cookie

**A/N:** Wow, you guys! Just...wow! I am blown away by the response that the first chapter got. Thank you all so much! I hope you continue to enjoy this AU that I've created. A special thanks to Mandy and Jenna. Mwah!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

A few days later, Rachel had gotten fully settled into the guest bedroom of Quinn's luxurious apartment (sometimes it paid to have a best friend with a trust fund). The lectures, though well deserved, had finally died down, somehow morphing into jokes at her expense. "_Kurt, if your building is on fire and you have to choose between your Prada shoes or your Armani suit, which do you take? Neither. Get your ass out and send Rachel back for both." _She loved her best friends, and she had acted stupidly, so the jokes would be tolerated. For now.

Rachel knew she was a lot more fortunate than others in her building with a free place to stay until their building was repaired. She was extremely thankful that the fire department had gotten the fire under control in a short amount of time and that only a few units had been completely lost. Her unit, mercifully, had been spared, but she had no idea when she'd be able to go home again.

As a show of her gratitude, she was currently baking a ton of cookies to take down to the fire station. She'd already managed to bake a big batch of chocolate chip and she was halfway through baking off the oatmeal raisin. Not bad for 9:00am when she'd had a show the night before. While these cookies were mostly to say _thank you_, there was one person she owed an apology to. Oh, and it pained her to have to do it. Puck something or other had been foul-mouthed and rude beyond all belief. But she supposed if the situation had been reversed, she might have had a swear or two to dole out as well. Rachel sighed as she scooped out more dough onto the baking sheet; he was just doing his job, so her pride would have to be swallowed momentarily to make room for some humble pie.

Rachel looked up as her friend padded into the kitchen and smiled. "Morning, Fabs."

Quinn took stock of her kitchen turned bakery and then glanced at the clock. "Good Lord, Betty Crocker, how long have you been at this?"

"Not long," Rachel shrugged, "a couple hours maybe."

"And why exactly are you baking dozens upon dozens of cookies?" Quinn inquired, pouring herself a cup of coffee.

"I'm making them as a thank you for the firemen that responded the other night. They risk their lives on a daily basis and I think that they might appreciate a little gratitude in the form of baked goods."

Quinn smirked over the top of the mug in her hands. "Got any in there with an _I'm Sorry_ iced on them for the one that had to rescue your dumb ass?"

Rachel frowned, but a chuckle was quick to follow. "Oh, my God! One time, Quinn. I made "I'm Sorry" cookies one time and that was a decade ago. Let it go!" She stuck her tongue out at her blonde friend and popped the cookie sheet into the oven.

"Rach, you poured sugar into Seth Waterman's gas tank and completely FUBAR'd his engine."

"Well, I thought he was the one that defaced Kurt's locker. Hence the cookies for when I found out I was wrong."

Quinn laughed, "The look on his face when you gave him the cookies—as if that made up for ruining his car."

"Not my finest moment, I'll admit. Moving on," Rachel waved off with a giggle. "But if you must know, I do owe that fireman an apology, so yes, some of these cookies are for him. Icing free."

"Any chance that some of those cookies have my name on them?" she asked, reaching for a chocolate chip cookie to dunk in her coffee.

"There might be some peanut butter ones coming up next," Rachel offered.

"Well, carry on then. I've got to get ready for the day. Kurt and I have a meeting later with Bergdorf's about possibly carrying our new line."

"Really?" Rachel asked in awe. "Quinn, that's fantastic!"

Quinn held up a hand. "I don't want to get my hopes up just yet, but we're hearing good things."

"Good luck!" she beamed. "I've got my fingers crossed for you."

"Thanks, Rach," Quinn smiled. "Have fun with the firemen. Feel free to give any cute ones my number." With a wave of her fingers, she sauntered out of the room.

~*~*~

Rachel handed a few bills to the driver and stepped out of the cab in front of Ladder 34. She gathered her large shopping bag filled with the containers of cookies and headed in through the open door. "Hello," she greeted brightly to the man with a friendly, mustachioed face. She could feel several pairs of eyes on her, but she brushed that aside, figuring they were probably not used to women marching into the station.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

She flashed him a toothy grin, "You already did, actually. Your unit responded to a fire in my building the other night, and I thought that all of you might enjoy these as a thank you." Rachel reached into the bag and pulled out the container on top and handed the bag with the remaining containers to the gentleman. "There's chocolate chip, oatmeal raisin and peanut butter."

"Hey guys," he called to the others, "this pretty lady here baked us some cookies." The other firemen hooped and hollered their appreciation, making Rachel's face flush. "Thanks, doll," he replied, smiling at her.

"No, thank you. If it weren't for the fast response and hard work, I might have lost everything. It was the very least I could do."

"All part of the job, but we will enjoy these," he told her with a grin.

"I hope that you do," Rachel smiled again, then shifted in place, knowing she needed to go ahead and rip off the proverbial band aid. "Could, um, you also tell me if there's someone that goes by _Puck_ working today?"

The fireman chuckled. "Yeah, Puckerman's around here somewhere. Let me see if I can find him."

She realized she was a little disappointed to learn that he was there. A part of her had been hoping he wouldn't be and that she could just leave the cookies with a note. It was cowardly, sure, but it was honest. She wasn't looking forward to encountering the rude man again, even if she did owe him an apology. "Great. Thank you so much," she told him. He nodded at her and walked away, handing the other men in the station the bag of cookies.

"What kinds of cookies are in here?" another fireman called. Rachel pasted on her best smile and went over to chat with the group of men while she waited.

~*~*~

Puck dribbled the ball, smirking deeply when Tony started talking smack in an attempt to distract him. He saw Finn get open and passed him the ball, turning quickly away from Tony to run towards the hoop. Finn passed the ball back and Puck put the ball in for an easy layup.

"That's game, assholes," Puck grinned, high-fiving Finn. "Tony, you might want to work on your smack talk since you clearly suck at hoops."

"Eat a dick, Puck," Tony retorted with a laugh, flipping him off.

Puck wiped the beads of sweat off his brow with the back of his hand and looked over when the door opened. "Hey, Jerry! You come out here to get your ass beat in hoops, too?"

"I'd school your ass, Puckerman," Jerry said. "Someone's here to see you."

"Oh, yeah?" Puck asked curiously. "And who might that be?"

"Dunno what her name is. Pretty though. Not sure what the hell she wants with you," he joked.

"Maybe she's come to tell him about a kid he knows nothing about," Tony said.

Puck went momentarily ashen. "Fuck off, dude. That's not even in the vicinity of funny. I handle my business, thanks."

Finn and the other guys laughed. "I wish you could see your face right now."

He flipped them the bird and grabbed his discarded t-shirt. "You all suck," he bit out, and walked inside.

"Cookies inside, gentlemen," Jerry told them, and was nearly bowled over as the other three ran for the door.

When Puck walked back into the station, he saw the rest of the crew gathered around a woman with long, dark hair. "No way! I do not believe you!" She threw her head back and laughed. It was a rich, hearty laugh that had his lips twitching upward. He didn't recognize her, but hey, if a hot woman was looking for him, who was he to complain?

"You shouldn't. About ninety percent of what comes out of his mouth is pure bullshit," Puck said, making the woman turn around. To say he was surprised to see the woman from the fire would be an understatement. She was also about a hundred times better looking than he remembered. _Fuck_. "You," he said, almost like an accusation.

Rachel was rendered speechless at the sweaty and shirtless man before her. She most certainly hadn't noticed the chiseled jaw or the hazel eyes the other night. Damn the fire and his prickly attitude for blinding her and leaving her at a total disadvantage. She heard him clear his throat and she lifted her eyes up to his; found him smirking deeply at her. She had been openly ogling him and he'd caught her. Life was so not golden at the moment. "Me," Rachel concurred, rising to her feet.

Amused by her staring and curious as to why she was there, he folded his arms across his chest and arched a dark eyebrow at her. "What are you doing here?"

She grabbed the tin of cookies and held it out for him. "I made these for you—as a thank you." Swallowing the lump that had mysteriously formed in her throat, she added, "And I'm sorry."

Puck stared at her for a beat, then took the proffered tin, his fingers quickly brushing against hers. He ignored the little jolt of electricity he felt in his fingertips. "Sorry, huh?" He looked pointedly at her. "For what?"

Rachel fought the urge to narrow her eyes. _You were the idiot, Rachel. Suck it up._ "I'm sorry for the unwise decision of running into a burning building for my neighbor's cat. I know that I held you up from doing your job…so, I apologize."

"Unwise? I'd call it pretty damn stupid, personally," he shot back.

Her eyes did narrow this time and she pressed her lips together tightly. He may be good looking, but he was still a jerk. "Yes, you charmingly said as much the other night. I won't take up any more of your time—enjoy the cookies." She turned to stalk away.

"Wait—um," he trailed off.

"Rachel," she told him.

Puck nodded and opened up the tin. He pulled out an oatmeal raisin cookie and took a big bite. It was heavenly—the perfect blend of sweet with a hint of spice and it was even better than the ones his grandma used to make. "Not bad," he said, swallowing.

She frowned. Everyone had always raved about her cookies before.

"Don't be such a jerk, Puck," Finn said approaching. "I just had a few and they're really good." He smiled at her. "Thanks for bringing these by. We appreciate it."

Rachel smiled at the tall man with the boyishly handsome face and the kind manners. "You're welcome." There was something so familiar about him, but she couldn't quite pinpoint it. She angled her head and studied him curiously. "I know you from somewhere," she told him finally.

Puck frowned and looked at his best friend as he looked back at Rachel with his trademark goofy grin.

"You do?"

"Yes," Rachel nodded. "I never forget a face, but I cannot place where I've seen you before."

Finn shrugged, feeling a little put on the spot by her intense gaze and reached for a cookie from Puck's tin.

"Get your own, Finn," Puck snapped, slapping his hand away.

Rachel snapped her fingers. "Finn Hudson!" she blurted excitedly. "Right?" Both of the men looked at her with raised brows.

"Y-yes," he stammered.

"You played football for McKinley High in Lima."

Puck exchanged a quick glance with Finn. He was half worried that in addition to rushing into burning buildings that this chick had a special pot for boiling bunnies at home.

"Yes," he drawled out.

"Oh, my God, this is hilarious," Rachel said laughing.

"Mind clueing the rest of us in on the joke?" Puck asked shortly. He didn't know why he was annoyed that she'd come to see him and now was making cow eyes at Finn.

"Sorry, of course. You probably think I'm completely crazy." Rachel beamed a huge smile at both of the men. "I'm from Findlay. I went to Findlay Prep and my best friends had such a crush on you."

Finn smiled then while Puck rolled his eyes. "Friends, huh?" he asked.

"Yes. My friends, Quinn and Kurt."

Puck snorted out a laugh.

"Kurt?" Finn asked, his flaming red.

Rachel giggled, "It was mostly my friend, Quinn. She met you at a party once when you came with a girl from our school."

"Rosalind Chambers," the boys said in unison.

She rolled her eyes and laughed. All men had the same reaction to the redhead. "That's the one. Did you go to McKinley, too?" she asked, turning her eyes to Puck.

"Yup."

"Small world," she smiled.

He shrugged in response, shoving another cookie into his mouth.

"I didn't catch your name," Finn said, trying to deflect his friend's rude behavior.

"Oh, sorry. I'm Rachel. Rachel Berry."

"It's always nice to meet someone from Ohio. Right, Puck?"

"Sure," he grinned wickedly.

"So, what do you do, Rachel?" Finn asked.

"Well, currently I'm in _Chicago _on Broadway," she smiled softly. Even though she'd been in the production for a year, she still got a thrill from realizing what she'd accomplished.

"Are you like a chorus girl or something?" Puck asked, making her turn disdainful eyes toward him.

"Something like that," she said tartly.

"That's really cool," Finn smiled.

"Yes, well, I've taken up enough of your time. Finn, it was so nice meeting you. I can't wait to tell Quinn about running into you. She'll laugh her ass off." She cast her eyes to the man with the dangerous good looks and sullen attitude. "Sorry—again. I hope you enjoy the cookies."

"They were really good," Finn said. "Don't mind him—he's kind of an asshole," he staged whispered.

Puck scoffed. Some best friend he had.

"I could kind of see that," Rachel said with a smirk, pleased at the look of shock on his face. She lifted a hand and headed for the door.

Puck punched Finn hard on the shoulder and handed him the tin of cookies. "Hey, Rachel," he called, striding after her.

She halted her steps and rolled her eyes. Was he going to be rude some more, because she'd just about had her fill for the day. Turning, she nearly bumped into him he was so close. "Yes?" she asked, taking a large step back to distance herself from him.

"So, the cookies are good."

"Thanks."

"I was thinking there was something else you could do for me though—to fully apologize." He grinned like the Cheshire cat.

Her mouth fell open. "That's offensive," she said haughtily.

Puck realized what she meant and grinned impishly. "Relax, princess, that's not what I meant. But if it was, you would be anything _but_ offended."

"Ugh, I take it back. You're not _kind of_ an asshole, you _are_ an asshole."

"I know. Look, about the show that you're in—"

"Yes?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest, feeling uncomfortable under his intense gaze.

"It's not really my thing, but our moms are coming to town," he gestured towards Finn, "and they always want to go see a show."

She arched a perfectly manicured brow, "And?"

"Thing is, I told them I'd take care of the tickets and—"

"You forgot?" she guessed.

"Yeah. And if my mom doesn't get to see a show, she'll heap the world's biggest guilt trip on me, and she's already been on my case this week. I'd just as soon avoid another round of that. She's got the market cornered on Jewish guilt trips."

Rachel sighed. When he flashed a crooked grin at her she rolled her eyes but laughed softly. "You had to go and play the Jewish mother card, didn't you?"

His brows raised in surprise. "You, too?"

"My bubbie—she's famous for her guilt trips. _'Ray-chel, when are you gonna find a nice Jewish boy? Why don't you go to Temple more often? Ray-chel, there are tons of nice Jewish boys in New Yawk. When are you gonna have babies, Ray-chel.' _I get it," she grinned.

Puck genuinely laughed then. Maybe he'd misjudged her. "So, think you could help me avoid all that by hooking me up with some tickets?" He flashed his crooked half smile that had always served him well with the opposite sex.

"I'll see what I can do—just being a chorus girl and all," she drawled sarcastically. The sarcasm was clearly lost on him when he only smiled. "What day?" she asked with a sigh.

"How's Thursday?" he grinned.

"Four tickets?" she asked and he nodded in affirmation. "Fine. The Ambassador Theater on west 49th. The tickets will be at will-call. Show's at 8:00."

"Thanks—you just saved my ass."

"Then I guess that makes us even." She headed for the door and was nearly in the clear when he called out again.

"Can't wait to see the show."

She turned, regarded the roguish smile on his face and felt something flutter in her stomach. "Yes, well, hopefully you can pick me out in the background," she snapped and flounced off.

Her cell phone rang and she saw Quinn's name on the caller ID. "Hey—how'd it go?"

"_WE GOT IT! WE GOT IT! WE GOT IT! Our clothes are actually going to be in Berdorf's!" _

Rachel squealed and started jumping up and down on the sidewalk, not caring what she looked like to passersby. "Quinn! I'm so proud of you two. We have to celebrate."

"_Definitely! How about tonight after your show?"_

"Perfect. Oh, and Quinn, you'll never guess who I ran into today…"

Feedback = love


	3. He had it comin'

**Author's Note: **I'm humbled by your response to this story. Seriously. Thank you all so, so much for the amazing feedback and story alerts. You guys rock. Hard. And yeah, surprise, surprise, this is out WAY sooner than I had anticipated. Guess my muse decided to stick around. I hope you enjoy this chapter...please let me know what you think. Thanks to Mandy and to Jenna for reading along the way. Kisses!

* * *

Rose Puckerman and Carol Hudson giggled like school girls as they strode down the New York City sidewalk towards the Ambassador Theater with their sons in tow. The foursome had gone to dinner and now they were on their way to see _Chicago_ thanks to the free tickets he'd finagled from the hot and crazy Rachel Berry. Puck experienced a moment of panic as they neared the theater when he wondered if she'd forgotten to leave the tickets or maybe she'd just been jerking his chain about them in the first place. He might be an asshole, but he really didn't want to disappoint his mother, or Finn's. His nerves were calmed when he gave his name at the will-call window and the girl smiled at him and slid an envelope with _Puckerman_ written neatly on the outside. He pulled the tickets out of the envelope and read the note she'd enclosed.

_Hopefully these will spare you a guilt trip of Jewish proportions. _

_Enjoy the show!_

_-Rachel_

Puck grinned smugly and handed everyone a ticket. He held the door open for his mother and Carol (hey, he wasn't a total heathen) and the four headed to find their seats. He was pleasantly surprised to see that she'd given them seats on the lower level, twelfth row center. And when his mother beamed happily at him while raving about what a good son he was for buying these tickets, he didn't bother correcting her. He just shrugged and flipped through the Playbill in his hand, wondering if chorus girls earned a mention.

~*~*~

Kurt fussed with Quinn's hair as they walked into the theater and she shooed his hand away. "Kurt!" she snapped. "Stop it."

"Well, excuse me, Miss Thang," he said huffily, "but we're about to be reunited with _the_ Finn Hudson, and I would think you'd want to look your best."

Quinn halted and whirled to face him. "Okay, one, my hair is fine, and two, this isn't high school, Kurt. The only reason I'm here is because Rachel shanghaied us."

Kurt fixed her with a prissy smirk. "Denial, thy name is Quinn. I saw the giddy look on your face when she told you he'd be here, and you changed your outfit three times."

She opened her mouth to protest, but his arched brow and crossed arms made her roll her eyes instead. "You're such a little bitch sometimes," she laughed.

"This is not news. How do I look? On second thought, I already know I'm fabulous. Come on, let's go get our seats." He hooked his arm through hers and off they went.

Quinn felt her heart race a little when she spotted the boy she'd had such a crush on a decade ago and felt ridiculous. She was a grown woman now, not some silly sixteen year old. Rachel had told her he was still boyishly good-looking and Quinn had to agree as she politely skirted past other patrons in row twelve to get to her seat that had her right next to Finn. She was nearly to her seat when Kurt gave her a little shove and she went flying right into Finn Hudson's lap. "Oh my God! I'm—I'm _so _sorry," she sputtered, wanting to kill her friend for humiliating her. She looked up into Finn's puppy dog eyes and felt her face flame scarlet as the feelings she'd had at sixteen came flooding back.

"Are you okay?" Finn asked, his hands at her waist, steadying her.

"I'm fine," she smiled kindly at him. "My friend here must've tripped," she told him, flashing a quick, murderous glance in Kurt's direction. "He's clumsy like that."

"Sorry," Kurt said in a sing-song voice, fluttering his fingers at them.

Puck watched, perplexed, as the scene unfolded before him. That blonde was hot and currently making goo-goo eyes at his best friend, and if he wasn't mistaken, her little gay friend was also.

"I'm Quinn," she said, offering her hand and getting to her seat. "Quinn Fabray."

Finn shook her hand and smiled. "I'm—"

"Finn Hudson," she finished for him. "I know."

He studied her, confused for a moment before it dawned on him. "Oh, you're Rachel's friend!"

"Yes," she smiled again.

"Who's Rachel?" Carol Hudson inquired, leaning forward in her seat.

"She's this girl that Puck rescued the other day from a fire. She got us these tickets."

"Did she now?" Rose Puckerman asked, shooting her son a heated look. "I thought you said _you_ bought these tickets, Noah."

Puck gave Finn a _thanks a fucking lot_ look and smiled sheepishly at his mother. "You assumed I bought them, I didn't correct you. We're here, Ma, what does it matter?"

Rose opened her mouth to give her son a piece of her mind, but Quinn intervened. "Thank you for pulling our friend to safety. We've been giving her a hard time about it ever since."

He gave her a grateful smile and shrugged his shoulders. "No big deal," he said, wondering how in the hell this night got so weird so fast. He slanted a look at his mother who was now smiling proudly at him. He fought the urge to roll his eyes at her total one-eighty, knowing that even though he was twenty-eight and they were in a theater full of people, she wouldn't hesitate to slap him upside the head.

"How do you know Finn?" Carol asked Quinn.

Quinn blushed, but smiled politely and told them the abridged version of her crush and how they'd gone to rival schools in Ohio.

"And where is this Rachel that you saved, Noah?" Rose asked.

"Oh, she's in the show," Quinn said proudly.

"Really? My Noah saved a Broadway star?"

"Ma, stop. She's just in the chorus," he muttered, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

Quinn snorted and exchanged amused glances with Kurt. "Is that what she told you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Puck asked, his brows knitting together.

The house lights dimmed and the music started. "You'll see," Quinn grinned. She settled back into her seat and her arm brushed against Finn's. She looked over and he smiled at her. Awkward meeting aside, she was glad for this strange twist of fate.

Puck scowled and folded his arms around his chest. He hoped this show didn't last that long. He wasn't in the mood to listen to show tunes all fucking night.

The theater was shrouded in darkness as the jazzy intro started. The lights went up on stage and a group of dancers appeared, moving along to the beat. He saw a woman with a short dark bob and a killer pair of legs rise out of the floor dressed in a skimpy black outfit that was akin to tasteful lingerie, replete with fishnet stockings. Really all of the actors on stage were dressed like that, and he thought that maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. She lifted her head and sauntered down the stairs, flanked by the dancers. He cocked his head to the side and stared closely at her. Fucking hell. Was that—Rachel?

Quinn glanced over and saw the dumbfounded expression on Puck's face and nudged Kurt. They exchanged another amused glance. "Just wait until he hears her sing," Kurt said, smirking.

_C'mon babe_

_Why don't we paint the town?_

_And all that jazz_

_I'm gonna rouge my knees_

_And roll my stockings down_

_And all that jazz_

Puck felt as though someone had whacked him upside the head with damn two-by-four. Her voice was clear, but sultry, and the slow, seductive way she was moving on stage was—_sexy as hell_.

_Start the car_

_I know a whoopee spot_

_Where the gin is cold_

_But the piano's hot_

_It's just a noisy hall_

_Where there's a nightly brawl_

_And all that jazz!_

The lyrics stopped registering the moment she started crawling backwards on stage, her legs going on for miles. And later when she did the splits in that tiny excuse for a costume without missing a beat, all the blood drained out of his head and swam south. He was pretty sure he was on the verge of drooling as he watched her, completely transfixed.

The music ramped up, as did the dancing when he saw her take center stage and she belted out the last few bars of the song.

_No, I'm no one's wife_

_But, oh, I love my life_

_And all_

_That_

_Jazz!_

_That jazz!_

Darkness fell on the stage again, as a roaring applause broke out around him. Finn nudged him, shaking him from the dirty fantasies in his head involving one Rachel Berry and some fishnets. He looked around and started clapping with everyone else.

So much for being a chorus girl. Dammit, he felt like a fucking idiot. He'd insulted her, and she hadn't bothered correcting him. He supposed this was a much better way to prove her point. And fuck if she hadn't proven it, like, a trillion-fold.

"Looks like that fireman is a little hot under the collar for our girl," Kurt whispered to Quinn, who nodded in agreement.

"We should arrange for them to talk after the show. She needs to get back out there," Quinn whispered back, smiling wickedly.

"I do love it when you plot, Q," Kurt grinned, hazarding another glance at the hot fireman down the row—make that hot fire_men_.

"Noah, is that the girl you rescued?" Rose whispered to her son.

_Jesus. _"Yes," he muttered, keeping his eyes on the stage.

"Oh, my—she's very talented isn't she? I wonder if she's Jewish." She turned her own eyes back to the stage as the next number began.

Puck wanted to shove a screwdriver into his temple. This night was taking a turn towards _The Twilight Zone_ and he was over it. He just wanted everyone to shut the fuck up so he could go back to watching the scantily clad girls dancing and not worry about the grand fantasies his mother was surely spinning in her head.

He didn't see Rachel again for a few numbers, but that Roxie chick was pretty hot, too, so he had very few complaints.

Rachel appeared again with the five other "merry murderesses" and he really enjoyed watching her dance and sway against those prison bars. Goddamn, musical theater wasn't supposed to be sexy, was it? But she was—even if the song was about these chicks going crazy murdering the men who'd done 'em wrong. Rachel had a killer set of pipes to go with the killer legs—and she looked hot in the wig, too.

He damn sure didn't want a girlfriend. He didn't _do_ girlfriends. But he thought that maybe he could talk her into tearing up the sheets with him for a night. Sure, she seemed a little crazy from the two interactions he'd had with her, but she was hot. And that trumped crazy. He'd already seen the evidence of her flexibility, and just the thought of all the dirty things they could do to one another kept him entertained until intermission.

After the show was over, the group stood around in the lobby while Finn and Quinn chatted and exchanged numbers and Puck half-assed listened to the conversation taking place between his mother, Carol and Kurt. They were gushing over the show and the fact that he and Quinn had known Rachel forever. His ears perked up when Kurt asked "Do you want an introduction?"

"Oh—are you sure it's not too much trouble?" Rose asked hopefully.

"Of course not," Kurt waved off. "Let me go and grab her."

"Did you enjoy the show?" Puck asked his mother knowingly.

"Yes! It was fabulous. Thank you so much for bringing us. Though, I cannot believe you kept the fact that you knew the star of the show from me, Noah."

And this right here? This is why he usually kept his damn mouth shut. "I didn't know she was the star and I don't really know her," he pointed out, though it wasn't enough to placate her.

"Then why did she give you free tickets?"

"Because I asked her for them. Jesus." The withering glare made him flinch and look away awkwardly. He shoved his hands into his pockets and turned to study the poster on the wall as if it was the most interesting thing he'd ever seen.

~*~*~

"Knock, knock," Kurt called, breezing into the dressing room like he owned the place.

"Hi," Rachel beamed, zipping up her blue hoodie. "What are you doing back here?"

Kurt eyed her sweatshirt and makeup-free skin with disdain and crinkled his nose. "Is that what you're wearing?"

Rachel looked down at her sweatshirt and jeans and then lifted her eyes to her friend. "Evidently—as these are the clothes currently on my body," she clipped tartly.

"Meow! Retract the claws, kitty. There are some fans outside that want to meet you. Namely a hot, hot fireman that you got tickets for. How come you didn't mention how sexy that man is?"

"Is he?" Rachel asked, feigning ignorance and combing her fingers through her hair trying to tug out the tangles from wearing her wig.

"You're not on stage anymore, you can quit acting," Kurt said. He spotted her purse and snatched it off the counter, rifling through it for the makeup bag he knew she kept in there.

"Excuse me, rude much?" Rachel said, trying to wrestle it free from his grasp.

"Look, Quinn's out there chatting up Finn, and Puck's out there with his mother and Finn's mother and they all want to tell you how fabulous you are. I know you like hearing _that_." He swept the blush across her cheeks, hissing when she slapped his hand.

"Kurt! What are you doing?"

"Prettying you up, doll baby! As naturally lovely as you are, I would not be a good friend if I let you go out there without a stitch of makeup."

Rachel sighed. It wasn't a battle she wanted to fight. "I'm too tired to argue with you."

"That's my girl," he smiled victoriously, patting her on the shoulder. He pulled out the rest of her makeup and went to work. "He seemed rather floored, you know."

"Who?"

Kurt rolled his eyes dramatically. "Who? You know good and well, who, Rachel Berry. That sex-on-a-stick fireman who thought you were just a chorus girl. He seemed rather gob smacked when you came on stage as the star."

She smiled smugly then. A part of her had wanted to stick it to him and she was happy to learn she'd knocked him down a peg or two. "Good," she giggled.

Kurt worked quickly and a few minutes and one more heated argument about the sweatshirt later, the duo exited the dressing room.

"I still say you should ditch the sweatshirt. It's not sophisticated," he whined as they approached the group.

"Shut up about the damn sweatshirt already. Seriously. I wasn't aware I was entertaining the queen after the show. Christ almighty, Kurt."

The lobby was nearly empty, so she quickly spotted the group. Her palms went damp when she spotted Puck smiling down at the woman she assumed was his mother. God, he was good looking—even from his profile. Her fingers itched to run along his jaw line and she mentally slapped herself. Guys who looked and acted like he did were nothing but trouble and trouble was the last thing she wanted or needed.

"Here's our little starlet," Kurt said merrily.

Rachel's cheeks flushed hot and she made a mental note later to slap him. But she smiled as five pairs of eyes all turned her direction. Quinn must have sensed her unease because she walked over and kissed her cheek, wrapping her in a tight hug. "Great show, Rach!" She flashed a grateful smile at her best friend. "Thanks."

"You really were terrific," Finn chimed in, flashing a kind, dimpled grin. He was as cute as a basket full of puppies.

"Thank you," she politely replied. She felt Puck's eyes on her and she turned. The sexy smirk on his face was offset by the mischievous gleam dancing around in those hazel eyes of his. She wasn't sure what that look meant, but it was wholly unnerving. There wasn't time to even give it a second thought though, since the mothers in the group quickly approached, happy grins plastered on their faces. "Hello," she greeted kindly. "I'm Rachel."

"Oh, sweetie, you were just truly spectacular on stage," Rose gushed, while Carol nodded enthusiastically in agreement. "I'm Rose Puckerman." She gripped Rachel's hand tightly and shook it vigorously. "And this is Carol Hudson. We're the mothers of these two handsome men."

Rachel smiled genuinely then. It was clear that they both loved their sons deeply and the mental image she got of Rose going off on her son in a Jewish rant had her biting back a laugh. "It's very nice to meet the both of you. I'm glad you enjoyed the show."

"I understand that you grew up in Findlay," Carol said.

"I did," Rachel nodded. "Small world, isn't it?" She slanted a quick look at Puck who looked on, embarrassed at what his mother might say.

"Absolutely," Rose agreed. "I also understand that my Noah helped you in a fire not too long ago."

_My Noah. _Rose reminded her so much of her grandmother just then. She glanced at him and he was looking back smugly at her. "He did—due to my own stupidity, I'm afraid. I ran in after my neighbor's cat. My Jewish guilt just got the better of me, I guess." _There. Take that._ His expression soured when his mother's face lit up like the Fourth of July and Rachel wanted to laugh so badly.

"What is she doing?" Kurt whispered to Quinn, who merely shrugged and went back to talking to Finn.

"You're Jewish?" Rose asked, clasping her hands together.

"Mmm hmm," Rachel hummed, biting the inside of her lip. She smiled at Puck who was shooting daggers at her.

"We're Jewish, too," Rose said proudly.

"Well, this _is_ a small world. Two Ohio Jews in New York City." Rachel could practically _see_ the wheels turning in Rose Puckerman's head and it was hilarious. She looked over and smiled wickedly at Puck.

Puck stared heatedly at her, the muscles in his jaw twitching. Turns out that Rachel Berry? Is evil incarnate. The score was now Rachel: 2, Puck: 0. Damn woman. He was thinking of ways to extract payback when his mother opened her mouth and said:

"Did you know that my Noah is a musician?"

Rachel raised her eyebrows in surprise and looked over at him. "No, I had no idea."

"He's very talented. He and Finn have a band."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Finn nodded. "We're _Fire Extinguishers_," he said happily.

Puck sighed and shook his head. He still can't believe he went along with that name. Rachel's face lit up and she laughed, big and bright, just like she had at the station the other day. It was a good laugh.

"Hilarious," she said, flashing him a toothy grin, her laughter slowly subsiding. "What kind of music do you play?"

"Covers," Puck shrugged. "It's not our livelihood—we just like to play."

"You should go see them sometime," Carol suggested.

"Oh, yes, you must," Rose agreed.

"Maybe we will," Rachel said, casting a quick look at Quinn and Kurt, before looking at Puck who was curiously studying her.

"We've taken up enough of your time, Rachel. It was so nice meeting you and seeing you perform tonight. Utterly amazing!" Rose Puckerman gushed.

"Thank you, Rose. It was lovely meeting you. You, too, Carol," she smiled.

"We're going to go back to our hotel," Rose informed her son, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. "What a lovely Jewish girl, Noah. You should go out with her," she whispered into his ear. She gave him a pointed look and waited on Carol who was hugging Finn goodbye.

After their mothers strolled away, Puck folded his arms over his chest and smirked at Rachel. "Well played."

Rachel arched a brow and smirked back. "Thank you."

"So, in addition to rushing into burning buildings and having a killer set of pipes, it turns out you're kind of evil."

She smiled wickedly. "I think your mother is already planning our wedding."

Puck laughed in spite of himself, because he knew that is exactly what his mother was doing. "Already engaged and I haven't even seen you naked. What a shame," he said, leering down at her.

Rachel rolled her eyes and turned to Quinn and Kurt. "I'm leaving. Thanks for coming to the show," she said to her friends and Finn and waved. Puck grabbed her arm and stopped her. "What?" she asked with disinterested sigh, even though her arm was now electrically charged.

"Thanks for the tickets," he told her.

"Don't mention it." She tugged her arm free and looked over at Quinn. "See you at home," she called, and turned and walked briskly for the exit.

_What the fuck just happened?_


	4. Don't go away mad, just go away

**Author's Note:** Many, many thanks to all of you for the lovely reviews. You really brighten my day with them. This chapter is a bit shorter than my other ones, but it was a good stopping point. I hope you enjoy it. A special thank you to Mandy and Jenna for brainstorming with me and to Jen and Teri for beta'ing this. You all rock. :)

I own nothing.

* * *

Rachel was tucked into a crowded corner of her favorite deli Wednesday afternoon enjoying her free day and looking forward to devouring the enormous pastrami sandwich as soon as her number was called. She'd had a productive morning so far—her laundry as well as Quinn's (despite her friend's protests that it wasn't necessary) was washed, folded and put away, the apartment shone like a new penny, and she'd had her ass kicked up and down Crunch Gym by her sadistic trainer. Hilda would absolutely not approve of the calories she was about to consume, but that's why she worked out (and why she lied her face off about her diet). If she had to live off of nothing but tree bark and berries, she'd be murderous inside of a week. She flipped open her battered copy of _Pride and Prejudice _and read while she waited.

Puck spotted her while he was in line waiting to order and shook his head at his luck. He'd been bombarded by her in some form for the better part of a week, although this was the first time he'd seen her in person since the night he'd gone to see her show. It seemed as though everywhere he went nowadays he saw her plastered on a poster or a billboard for _Chicago_, her dark eyes staring back at him. Hell, she even tortured him as the bus went past, laid out in all her black satin and fishnet glory. He supposed that those images had always been around, only now he was _aware_ and shit and that really stuck in his craw—mostly because she'd one-upped him in front of his mother and said mother hadn't stopped nagging him about _the lovely and talented Jewish girl_ ever since. So of course she'd show up in his favorite deli, with her nose buried in a book and her dark hair waving invitingly around her gorgeous face on the only day he'd yet to see an image of her. He placed his order and grabbed a cup for his soda, heading over to the machine to fill it up.

"Order up for Rachel," a man behind the counter boomed.

She dog-eared her place in the book and set it on the table. "Pastrami on rye—good choice," a voice said lazily. Rachel looked up and found Puck smirking (honestly, did the man have another expression?) at her, her bag of food in his hand. "Why does New York feel like it's getting smaller every day?" she clipped.

"Funny, I was just thinking the same thing," he said gruffly. The vacant chair at her table scraped across the floor as he pulled it out and plopped down carelessly into it. He handed her the bag and leaned back against the seat.

"What are you doing?" she asked, eyeing him warily.

"Sitting at the only available seat in the joint." He lifted the cup to his mouth and took a big gulp of his Coke.

"I don't recall asking you to join me," she informed him, casting a furtive glance around the deli to see if he was telling the truth. He was.

He cocked his head to the side and looked at her, his eye dancing amusedly. "Would you really make me eat standing up?" The corners of his lips turned up slightly.

Rachel could tell that he was the kind of guy who was used to getting everything he wanted from a woman with just a look or a smile. And while she couldn't deny he was ridiculously attractive (sexy), she wasn't about to fall prey to his charms. "No, I wouldn't." He grinned. "There's an open seat right there," she pointed to a newly vacated table a few feet away. She smiled wryly and reached into the paper sack for her sandwich.

Puck chuckled, rising to his feet when he heard his order being called. She was prickly and for some reason he liked that. He got his sandwich, thought briefly about sitting at the other table, then sat back down at Rachel's instead.

The little slice of heaven was halfway to her mouth when he sat back down. She frowned. "What are you doing?" she asked again.

"I don't want you to eat alone," he replied, a wily smile on his lips.

"How noble," she said dryly.

"Isn't that what all women want?" he asked, reaching between them for the book on the table. He picked it up, glanced at the cover and pointed to it.

Rachel sighed, set her sandwich down and fixed him with a bored look. "What are you talking about?"

He lifted the cup to his mouth, grinned over the top of it. "A knight in shining armor."

She laughed darkly. "There's no such thing as knights in shining armor. Only retards wrapped in aluminum foil." _Oh, Rachel, that was so not politically correct. _

Puck nearly choked on his drink as the laugh rumbled up in his chest. "Razor sharp wit you've got there, Rachel."

She shrugged. "Just being honest. Her stomach growled and she was tired of waiting to eat. Picking up the sandwich, she took a mammoth bite. Her eyes fell closed and she nearly moaned from the deliciousness igniting her taste buds.

The surprises where Rachel Berry was concerned just kept coming. He would've bet any amount of money that she ate rabbit food and picked at her meals like a bird. But there she was across from him, digging into that gigantic sandwich and having what bordered on a religious experience with it. There was something very sexy about a woman who wasn't afraid to eat. "Good?" he asked knowingly.

"God, yes! I was dreaming of this while my trainer tortured me with squats and lunges this morning."

Images of Rachel sweating in a gym with some tight yoga pants wrapped over her hot ass and legs flashed in his mind. So sue him, he was a dude. The comment on the tip of his tongue would probably get him slapped, so he unwrapped his own sandwich and took a big bite.

They shared a few minutes of companionable silence while they ate, minus a few grunts and groans of appreciation for their food. Rachel polished off her sandwich and tore open the bag of salt and vinegar chips, quickly inhaling a few. She licked the salt from her fingers one at a time and found Puck staring oddly at her. It was annoying. "What?" she asked with raised brows.

Puck's lips twitched and he merely took another drink from his cup, saying nothing.

"You clearly have something to say—just spit it out." She huffed out an irritated breath and reached for her diet coke.

"I like watching you eat." When her lip curled in disgust he grinned. "It's refreshing to see a woman put away food like that instead of ordering a piece of lettuce, eating half and claiming she's stuffed. You annihilated that sandwich."

Rachel pursed her lips, unsure whether to be flattered or insulted—maybe a little of both, she finally decided. She smiled crookedly and took another sip from her straw. "How's your mother?" she deflected, dimples winking.

Puck let out a derisive snort. "You know, you don't look mean, but you are. We watched _Schindler's List_ once and she cried and told me I was no better than the Nazis because I didn't date Jewish girls. And that was when I was in _high school._"

Her jaw dropped and she laughed. "No, she did not!"

"Oh, yes she did," he told her, laughing at the memory. "So you can imagine how _insane_ she gets over any female Jew in a ten-mile radius of me now that I'm pushing thirty."

"Well, it's New York—plenty of Jews to choose from," Rachel replied glibly.

"And what about you? Can I add you to my list?" he asked, leering at her.

Ugh, he was smarmy. "Sure," she said tartly, standing up. "I'll be number one with a bullet on your 'never gonna happen' list." She grabbed her book off the table and shoved it into her bag.

He blew out a low whistle. "Boy, someone did a number on you."

Someone had. And screw Noah Puckerman for zeroing in on that old wound with such accurate precision and making it ache dully. Her eyes went dark and narrow. "Don't presume that you know the first thing about my life."

Puck got to his feet and glared back at her. "Same goes."

She snorted as she shrugged into her red fleece jacket. "You're not as tough to figure out as you think," she said and turned on her heel, heading for the door.

"What the fuck does that mean?" he asked testily as they stepped out onto the sidewalk, the cool autumn breeze blowing around them.

Rachel paused and reluctantly turned back to him, no longer wishing to be a participant in this conversation. "If I'm being succinct, I believe the term _man whore_ is applicable."

Puck stepped closer, invading her personal space. He noted a flicker of something else in those Bambi eyes of hers (what exactly, he wasn't sure, but it was there) before they went stormy again. "Nothing wrong with liking sex, sweetheart. Maybe you should look into getting some soon—might dislodge that giant stick up your ass." Her mouth fell open in shock and he grinned smugly. "See ya around, Berry," he said and walked away, leaving her alone on the sidewalk in his wake.

~*~*~

Quinn was hunkered down at the dining room table surrounded by sketches and fabric samples when Rachel came slamming into the apartment. The scowl on her face accompanied by the insane number of shopping bags in her hands was a dead giveaway that she was in a shitty mood. She watched her storm towards the guest room, heard the packages drop against the hardwood.

She knocked on the door and heard a harried "What?" and poked her head inside. "Hey," she said softly.

"Hi," Rachel snapped, not bothering to glance up as she upended the shopping bags on the bed.

Quinn walked over to the bed and looked at her purchases, grabbing curiously at the shoebox. "Hot boots," she commented, running a finger over the buttery soft black leather. She sat down on the bed and looked at Rachel. "What's wrong?" Rachel took a deep breath and launched into a long (and loud) diatribe, leaving Quinn only able to discern every few word or so.

"Stupid fireman…deli…table…insufferable ass…egomaniacal douche...singular expression…smirks…man whore…insulting…stick up my ass…like to beat him with a giant stick upside his stupid face!"

Quinn blinked owlishly, trying to process. "Wait—are you talking about Puck?"

"Yes!" she screeched. "Weren't you listening?"

"I was trying, motor mouth. Dial it down a notch!" Quinn snapped.

Rachel huffed out a breath and sat down next to Quinn. "I'm sorry, Fabs."

"Oh, please…that was nothing," she assured her friend, patting her knee. "You should go out with him."

"W-wh-what?" she sputtered. "Did you not hear a word I just said?"

Quinn ignored her question. "I think he likes you—you should have seen the way he was watching you at your show the other night."

"I think you need your head examined. The only thing that Neanderthal wants is to get into a willing female's pants and that female will most certainly not be me."

"And why not? He's sexy!"

"Then you go out with him," she sneered.

"I've got my eye on a different fireman, thanks. Rachel, it's been a long time since T—"

Rachel held up a hand. "Uh-uh—we don't speak of him, remember? He-who-must-not-be-named—like Voldemort."

"Or Vanessa on _Gossip Girl_," Quinn said, scrunching her nose up disgustedly, making Rachel laugh.

"Exactly!" She plucked the cream cashmere sweater she'd bought in her rage-induced shopping spree off the bed and folded it neatly. Glancing at the rest of the purchases, she looked up guiltily at Quinn. "I need help, don't I?"

Quinn smiled and laughed softly. "Sweetie, for several years now," she teased, dodging the purse Rachel threw at her. She opened the door, looked back over her shoulder. "Don't forget that we're hosting game night this evening."

"Oh yeah," Rachel said, her face lighting up. "That will cheer me right up! Let me just get this mess put away and then I'll put some food together for tonight," she said, gesturing to the rainbow pile on her bed.

"Great—see you later."

Quinn hurried to her room and shut the door, quickly dialing Kurt.

"_Yes?" he asked in a posh voice._

"I think we should abort our plan for game night, Kurt."

"_And why would we do that? Didn't you already invite him over?"_

She felt the pang of guilt settle in her stomach, knowing Rachel would be pissed from being blindsided. "Well, yes, but—"

"_No buts, Q! What's the worst that could happen? She divas out and gets pissed for a day or two? Been there, done that. Ooh, I've got to run. Toodles!"_

When the line went dead, she frowned. She hated that he always somehow managed to get the last word in. The little divo. Her phone beeped with a text message and she got sidetracked from all other thought when Finn told her he was looking forward to seeing her tonight.

~*~*~

Rachel artfully arranged the hors d'ouevres on a platter and scooped some dip into a bowl while she got caught up on the latest gossip from Kurt's boyfriend, Drew. She laughed when he told her of the colossal hissy fit Kurt threw the other day before the Bergdorf meeting. "Why does that not surprise me?" she asked, smiling over at the handsome man with the sandy hair and blue eyes.

"Things have calmed down considerably since the deal went through. Get you a drink, Rach?" he asked, pulling open the fridge.

"I'd love some wine—red. Thanks, Drew." She grabbed the snacks and headed for the living room, spying Quinn and Kurt having a hushed argument on the couch. "What are you two arguing about now?" she asked, setting the food down on the coffee table.

"Business," they blurted quickly. In unison.

She gave them an odd look. "Well, stop. It's game night! And I'm in the mood to have fun." A knock sounded at the door. "That must be Tina and Artie. I'll get it," she smiled and bounded over to the door.

Rachel pulled open the door fully expecting to see her married friends and saw a happy-faced Finn on the other side instead. "Hi, Finn," she greeted, smiling in surprise. "Come on in." He stepped inside and, much to her chagrin, a smirking (seriously?) Puck appeared in the doorway behind him. Her face fell into a scowl. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

Reviews are love. :)


	5. Games People Play

**Author's Note: **Gosh, you guys, I can't believe the amazing reviews and number of story alerts for this little fic. You make me smile so much! This chapter is a little longer than the last one, and I hope that you enjoy it. There's a teeny, tiny bit of forward movement between our couple. Let me know what you think.

A special thanks to Mandy for her help with this, as well as Jenna, Jen, and Teri for taking a look along the way. I hope everyone is enjoying the holidays. Here is my belated Christmas (and Hanukkah) gift to you!

I own nothing.

* * *

Rachel stood in front of the open door scowling at the absolute last person she expected to see at game night, his trademark smirk firmly in place. "You've _got _to be fucking kidding me," she spat. His grin was quick, his eyes amused, and she wanted to slam the door in his stupid (sexy) face. "What are you doing here?" she asked, forgoing politeness.

"I was invited."

She sneered at him, looked back at her friends in the living room and saw Quinn walking over with her guilty face on. One look at the wicked grin on Kurt's otherwise cherubic face confirmed all she needed to know—her friends _hated_ her. "How could you?" she mouthed silently to Quinn before turning back to tall, dark and douchey taking up space in the hall.

"Hi, Puck," Quinn greeted brightly. "Thanks for coming."

Puck carelessly shrugged his broad shoulders, but smiled back at the blonde. "I brought beer," he said, lifting the case for evidence.

"Fantastic—you can never have too much alcohol. Right, Rach?"

"I'm going to need it," she muttered under her breath and then pressed her lips together and gave him a tight, fake smile before turning and flouncing off to the kitchen.

His lips twitched as he watched her storm away and he stepped into the apartment. "Want me to put this in your fridge?"

Quinn cast a quick glance towards the kitchen, "Ah, I'd better take that. Go on in the living room. We're waiting on a couple more and then we'll get started. There's food if you're hungry." She smiled and took the case of beer from his hands and headed to face Rachel's wrath.

"I'm sorry," Quinn said the moment she walked into the kitchen, flinching as Rachel's brutal gaze sliced through her.

"Why do you hate me?" Rachel pouted, folding her arms across her chest.

She put the beer on the counter and turned. "Don't be so dramatic," she sighed. "I told Finn a few days ago to bring him if he wanted to."

"Which you failed to mention entirely," she heatedly pointed out.

"I know—but it was Kurt's idea," Quinn blurted, throwing her friend under the bus. After all, she was the one who'd tried to call it off and it wasn't fair that he was in the other room while she got yelled at. "I had no way of knowing you'd bump into each other and get into it today."

"So, Berry—you talk to your friends about me?" he asked from the doorway, startling both of the women. "That's cute." He kept his eyes on her face as color seeped into her cheeks. The wicked smile spread slowly across his face when her eyes narrowed in annoyance.

Rachel gave Quinn a look that said '_see what I mean?' _before turning her eyes back to Puck.

Quinn looked back and forth between the two, growing uncomfortable from the tension in the air. "I'll just…" she trailed off. She then grabbed a bag of chips from the counter and fled.

_Judas_. "What do you want?" He stepped silently into the kitchen, stalking towards her like a lion after his prey. She pressed her body back, closer against the counter, trying to increase the space between them as his tall form towered over her and slowly leaned in. His hazel eyes pierced into hers and he was close enough that she could see flecks of gold in them. The intoxicating scent of his cologne invaded her senses and her breath hitched (she was also pretty sure that she'd just audibly gulped). Puck planted his hands on the counter, caging her. Smiling dangerously, he angled his head so his lips hovered over hers, and reached behind her. He leaned back slightly and held up a bottle of beer in front of her face. She blinked slowly, the mist clearing from her mind as his actions registered in her brain.

"I'm thirsty," he said lecherously. His lips twitched when the breath she'd been holding blew out in a whoosh around them. He wanted to double over with laughter when murder flashed in those fiery brown eyes of hers. He settled for a smug grin.

"Would you kindly back the hell out of my personal space?" she said through clenched teeth, unnerved by his proximity.

"Sorry, Berry," he muttered and stepped back only a few inches to irritate her. He popped the top off his beer and took a long, slow pull from the bottle. "Ahhh! That hits the spot. Want one?"

Rachel fixed him with pointed look. "Why are you here, Puck?"

He took another slow drink from the bottle, looking down at her looking up in frustration at him. "Because you amuse me," he finally answered.

"Why don't you patronize me a little more? I'm not some little play thing here for your entertainment, you egotistical ass!"

He heard a lot of big words in there that sounded mostly like _blah blah blah_ but he did catch 'play thing.' "But wouldn't it be more fun if you were?"

"Ugh, you are _revolting_!" Her hands clenched and unclenched at her sides, itching to slap him across his disgusting, chauvinistic mouth.

Puck leered at her. "And yet a minute ago you were hoping I was going to kiss you."

"I most certainly was not," she cried, utterly offended. She'd definitely _thought_ he was going to kiss her, but hadn't been _hoping_ for it. Not at all. _Big_ difference.

"You might want to call the leg factory for something to stand on because I don't believe you."

Seething, she shoved him back with as much force as she could muster, staggering his large frame back a few feet. His laughter mocked her the entire way back into the living room. She sat down on the couch with a huff and glared at Kurt who was grinning happily at her over the coffee table.

"Hey, Rach," Artie greeted tentatively.

Rachel hadn't even realized that Artie and Tina had arrived. She softened when she looked at them and got up to give them each a hug. "Hi guys—so good to see you," she beamed, exchanging pleasantries with the couple.

Puck emerged from the kitchen with a few beers in his hands and handed one to Finn and another to Artie before sitting down in the seat that Rachel had just vacated.

Kurt's smile widened. "Okay, now that we're all here, we'll get this show on the road. Oh, and we all have picked partners already, so Rachel, darling, you can partner up with Puck." Her head snapped up and her eyes bore into his. He'd been the recipient of many a dirty look from both of his best friends over the years (whatever, he was delightfully devilish and they couldn't handle it sometimes), but the look he was currently on the receiving end of was so scary and so apocalyptic that it even made him blanch (only on the inside of course).

"I already told you that I wanted to be Rachel's partner, Kurt," Quinn quickly chimed in. The grateful smile from Rachel told her she was back in good graces.

"Yes," Kurt drolly began, "but you seem to have forgotten Game Night-a-go-go 2006." He turned dramatically to the new members in the group to explain. "You see, three years ago we—"

"Kurt!" Quinn spat. "No one cares."

He sniffed, his nose high in the air and smoothed his bangs. "My point," he smoothly began, "before I was so rudely interrupted, is that you and Rachel are banned from being partners because you _cheat_."

Rachel and Quinn shared an amused look and burst out laughing because it was true. "Fine," Quinn relented. Hey, she tried. At least her current roommate wasn't mad at her anymore.

"Grab a seat! We're starting," he ordered to Rachel.

With a menacing smile and a hand gripping his shoulder like a vice, she leaned over Kurt so only he could hear her. "One day, Hummel. One day, when you least expect it, I will be there, and I will pay you back for this. It will hit you so hard and so fast and so unexpectedly that you will wish on all that is good and Barbra that you never messed with me in this impertinent manner. Capice?" She stood up and patted (lightly slapped?) the side of his face a few times, pleased when she saw the flash of fear in his wide eyes.

Turning, she found six pairs of eyes staring at her expectantly, like she was about to unleash the hounds of hell on the room. Sighing, she resigned herself to just getting lost in the fun of game night even if she had to partner up with Captain Caveman. Besides, she thought as she grabbed her wineglass off the table and took the seat next to him (demurely scooting her body as far away as possible without appearing overly obvious), how bad could it be?

~*~*~

It just so happens that Noah Puckerman? Is shit fucking _awful_ at _Pictionary_. Either he was messing with her (entirely plausible) or he was a total moron (also likely). Rachel knew she wasn't an artiste by any means, but, come _on—_the word was "camel" and when he shouted out "tits" she wanted to pick up the easel and brain him with it. Her camel looked _nothing_ like a pair of breasts. Honestly!

Admittedly, she was overly competitive. Her friends had bestowed the nickname _Monica_ upon her, in light of her Monica Gellar-Bing tendencies that always emerged during game night. She wasn't the least bit offended.

She drew a hand with a diamond ring on the third finger and pointed excitedly to it, because, hello, the word was 'diamond ring' and that was so easy even a knuckle scraper like him could figure _that_ out.

"Ball and chain," he called out, cracking everyone else up in the room but Rachel.

"TIME!" Kurt called.

"Ugh!" She ripped the used sheet of paper and wadded it into a ball, hurling it at his head. "Diamond ring, you idiot!"

"My statement stands." He shared a quick glance with Finn who shook his head disappointedly even though his lips were fighting back a smile. Alright, so he was being unnecessarily ass-y. But Rachel's frustration with him was funny as hell—and more than a little sexy. She was so easy to rile up that it really shouldn't be fun, and yet he just kept poking away at her buttons.

He wondered what she was like in the sack, and not for the first (or tenth) time. Would she be tame and lame or funky and spunky? He'd already born witness to her flexibility (thank you, _Chicago_), and with her temper and flair for drama, he was pretty sure that she'd be wild.

Rachel sat back down on the couch and her lips fell into a pout. This was without a doubt the _worst_ game night _ever_. She could _feel_ his eyes boring into the side of head (her newly acquired smirkometer sparked to life, so she knew what expression he wore) and she slanted him a sideways glance, an eyebrow arched in question.

"Are you actually pouting?" he asked as Artie and Tina took their turn.

"I'm very competitive and seeing as how we're currently in last place due to your complete inadequacy, yes, I suppose I am. You are the worst partner ever."

"Depends on the game, baby," he said suggestively.

"Don't _baby_ me, you arrogant, sycophantic jackass. And call me crazy, but your constant allusions to sex sound an awful lot like overcompensation to me."

His brows drew together and the muscles in his jaw twitched. Was she serious? "Are you questioning my badassness?"

Rachel snorted. "I've yet to see examples of said _badassness_," she said sharply, making air quotes, "so the answer is yes." He frowned. That made her smile. He got up and walked (stomped) to the kitchen. She laughed.

Quinn slid down the couch after Finn went to grab a beer and rested her head on Rachel's shoulder. "Still mad?"

She pursed her lips and considered her friend, who was currently making sad puppy dog eyes at her. "Not at you. Our _supposed_ best friend over there though is another story."

"Finn's so cute, Rach," Quinn whispered, her cheeks blossoming with color. "We're going on our first date this weekend," she beamed.

"Awww!" Rachel smiled. "You're so in like," she teased in a sing-song voice.

"I think I really am," Quinn sighed. "He's so sweet and he makes me laugh."

Rachel was thrilled for her friend and wrapped and arm around her and gave her a friendly squeeze. "I'm so happy for you. You deserve to have a nice guy who adores you."

"So do you, Rach." She felt Rachel's sigh and sat up. "You do," she repeated, meeting her eyes. "Put that fucktard behind you once and for all. It's time to move on."

"I have," Rachel protested weakly.

"No, sweetie, you haven't. Moved on, that is," she said softly, squeezing her hand. "It's time to get back out there—meet someone new." Her eyes looked towards the kitchen where Finn and Puck were laughing about something. She wasn't sure what had implored her to have Finn invite Puck to the game night, but despite the fact that Rachel was all but ready to murder him, she thought that this could be the beginning of something very interesting between them. The fact that Rachel was so bothered by him was pretty telling. But she kept those observations to herself because a)Rachel was no longer mad and b)she rather enjoyed her head being attached to her body.

"Time for the next round, darlings," Kurt trilled across the room.

Rachel tried to humor herself by thinking up ways in which to pay Kurt back. She was nothing if not creative. She frowned at her empty wineglass and stood up from the couch. "I need a refill and to round up my worthless partner. Need anything?" she asked Quinn.

"Brownies!"

She laughed and walked towards the kitchen where Puck was of course blocking the entry. His agenda was to annoy her, evidently. "Excuse me," she said curtly.

Puck turned and looked down at the spitfire in the doorway. Christ, she was tiny. "Sorry, partner," he drawled, making room for her to pass. She rolled her eyes and grabbed the wine bottle on the counter, pouring a healthy (read: full to the very top) glass. He saw her reach for a knife and for a second considered that she might turn around and stab, or at the very least cut, him. Instead she used it on the pan of brownies he'd spotted earlier.

Rachel ignored his presence to the very best of her ability as she opened up one of the cabinets and looked for a decorative plate for the dessert. Spying one on the top shelf, she stood on her tip toes and tried vainly to reach it.

The look of determination on her face and the way she tried to stretch every inch of her petite frame in order to reach the plate made him grin. He also appreciated the glimpse of bare skin he got when her soft sweater (he knew it was soft because he accidentally totally on purpose brushed against her on the couch to see if it was really as soft as it looked) rode up.

He stepped behind her and grabbed the plate off the shelf, holding it out for her. "There you go, Smalls," he said, chuckling when she jumped.

Glancing over her shoulder, she found him standing entirely too close and looking down at her with mischief swirling amusedly in his eyes. "Smalls?" she asked, one eyebrow arched high and grabbed the plate from his hands.

Puck laughed lowly. "It fits—you're short."

"I'm _petite_," she corrected.

"And nicely packed," he added with a sly grin.

"Are you always so sleazy?" she asked with a roll of her eyes as she turned back to the task of plating the brownies.

"Are you always so uptight?" he tossed back. "It was a compliment."

"Thanks, I guess," she said dryly, picking up the plate of brownies and her glass of wine. "Let's just go out there and get the humiliation over with so you can go home. Okay?"

"What's wrong, Berry? Not enjoying my company?" he asked, shoving his hands into his pockets, blocking her way.

She smiled tartly, angling her head to look up at him. When she leaned in, he smirked. "You're not very quick on the uptake are you, Puck?" she whispered condescendingly. Skirting around him, she carried the brownies out to the living room where the next game (ass kicking embarrassment) was about to begin.

The last game was a homemade version of _Catchphrase _that had become a necessity after a few game nights and Rachel, Quinn and Kurt had nearly memorized all of the words. So the new game consisted of words written on tiny pieces of paper that were put into a New Kids on the Block bowl that Kurt had found.

Quinn and Finn went first, with Finn giving the clues. Rachel laughed at some of Finn's clues and smiled when Quinn was able to guess them. They were kind of adorable, so she didn't begrudge their early lead. And really, who was she kidding? She and Puck were going to get dead last anyway.

Kurt and Drew were up next and managed to get eight words in their time limit. Normally she would have given him a _well done, sir_ but she was still mad, so he got nothing. Okay, so he got a look of disdain when he taunted her and informed them that they were up next.

Rachel looked at Puck, who was sipping his beer. "I'll just go first," she sighed, getting up off the couch. She was a sore loser.

She waited until Kurt gave the signal and then reached into the bowl for her first word. "Okay, _Piano Man, Uptown Girl _and _Keeping the Faith_ are all…"

"Billy Joel songs," Puck said, putting on his game face.

Rachel was pleasantly surprised that he didn't have a smart ass comment, but pressed on, hoping to at least have a better showing than the _Pictionary _round_. _"Made with gin or vodka—James Bond likes his shaken, not stirred."

"Martini."

"Yes!" She grabbed another clue. "Oh," she snapped her fingers excitedly. "Your band's name."

"Fire Extinguishers," he grinned.

"Yes!" They were on a roll and with her clues, Puck guessed _Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, The Declaration of Independence, ménage a tois _(she died a little having to give that clue)_, Simon and Garfunkel, Taco Bell _and _black and white photography_.

"Time's up," Kurt called. "You got nine," he said, his lips pursed.

She looked over at Kurt and told him to _suck it, _then clapped excitedly as she all but skipped back to the couch with a brilliant smile on her face. "Good job," she said, holding her hand up for a high five.

Puck slapped her hand with his and smirked up at her happy face. "You too, Smalls." When she didn't roll her eyes or come back with a snide retort, he figured he'd made some progress. As much fun as he had getting an angry rise out of her, making her smile like that was even better. (And only because he really wanted to fuck her—not because he was developing feelings and shit. Hell to the no.)

Rachel sat next to him and they laughed at some of the other clue attempts from the rest of the group. At one point, she turned and gave him a questioning look because of something Finn had said. He shrugged and gave her a look that said _yeah, I know, he's my boy and all, but he's kind of an idiot._ They had developed some sort of game night camaraderie and that was pretty cool.

It was their turn again and they needed eight words to beat Kurt and Drew. Rachel raised her brows like _please don't fuck this up because I'd really like to win so I can hold it over my gay friend's head. _He just smirked and said "I got this."

She watched as he practically swaggered across the living room and felt a strange flutter in her stomach. He was seriously, ridiculously hot and even though he'd managed to pull his head out of his ass for one round of game night, he was still an arrogant jerk and not someone she wanted to involve herself with. But since she was just having this little thought stream in her head, she'd admit that he was mighty easy on the eyes.

"Ready, go," Kurt called.

Puck grabbed a word from the bowl and grinned when he read it. "Brand of sweet, disgusting, kosher wine."

"Manischewitz!" Rachel called excitedly.

He nodded and read the next clue. "Ugh, annoying chick with the dreads that was in _Ghost_."

"Whoopi Goldberg."

"Yup. Bruce Springsteen song. _Show a little faith there's magic in the night. You ain't a beauty but hey, you're alright,"_ he sang.

"_Thunder Road_," Rachel said, something warm twisting in her belly from hearing that baritone voice come out of his mouth.

They'd managed to get four more words and only needed one more to win the game. Well, Artie and Tina still had to go, but they needed something close to a thousand to win, so Puck wasn't at all worried. He looked at the word and up at Rachel, wondering if she'd be able to guess this one. "Football—best QB in the NFL. He—"

"Peyton Manning!" Rachel shouted and looked at Puck expectantly.

"Time!" Kurt called.

Puck grinned and turned the word around for Kurt to read. Printed neatly on the slip of paper was **Peyton Manning**.

When Kurt's face fell, Rachel squealed delightedly and jumped up and down, doing a little victory dance that Puck found cute as hell. She ran over laughing and high fived him again before rushing off to flaunt their win in Kurt's face.

He didn't get a chance to talk to her again until later because she and the other girls (and Kurt) had a powwow in the dining room while the guys bowled on the _Wii_ and drank beer. After Tina and Artie left, he escaped the living room because the goo-goo eyes Finn and Quinn were making at each other were turning his stomach. He found Rachel in the kitchen sitting on the counter laughing with Kurt and Drew.

Kurt looked over and exchanged a quick look with his boyfriend once he spotted Puck. It made no difference to him that he'd just gotten Rachel to forgive him. He'd noticed a definite _something_ during game night and he would at the very least help his friend take that fireman for a spin. She'd thank him eventually. "Time for us to jet, Divalicious," he said, a wily smile twisting his lips.

Rachel leaned down and kissed his cheek and got a hug from Drew. "See you later, favorite men of mine," she said affectionately and waved. She looked up and saw Puck watching her from the doorway, one hand tucked into the pocket of his faded jeans. Her cheeks were hot again, and she didn't think it had anything to do with the wine she'd been drinking. "Hey," she greeted casually, taking a gulp from her glass to quiet whatever was sparking to life inside as his eyes held hers.

"Hey," he flashed a lopsided grin.

"Brownie?" she asked, picking up the plate next to her on the counter.

He walked over, grabbed one of the chocolate-y treats and bit off half. "So," he began after he polished off the brownie, "Peyton Manning?"

She licked the chocolate from her thumb and nodded. "I like football—mostly the Colts."

He cocked an eyebrow in surprise. "Never would have pegged you as a sports fan."

"You don't know me," she reminded him.

"You're really competitive," he said with a half smile.

She smiled easily at him then. "That's true."

"It's kinda hot," he said, his voice gruff.

"You know what," she began, hopping down off the counter, "don't ruin my winning high by opening your mouth and saying something disgusting. Sound good?"

He laughed and grabbed his remaining beer from the refrigerator. "Fair enough, Smalls."

"Stop calling me that," she told him, though her tone didn't quite match the statement.

Puck just shrugged, looking amused. "You gonna come check out _Fire Extinguishers_ with Quinn next week?"

Rachel pressed her lips together and considered. She had to admit that she was completely intrigued to hear him sing after hearing those measly two bars during the game. "I don't know. Is there any Springsteen in your set list?" she inquired coyly, taking another drink from her wine.

He'd given her a tiny taste of Puckerone's vocal styling and she wanted more. With a shit-eating grin on his face he replied "Maybe." _Totally._

"Well, _maybe_ I'll see you play sometime." She grinned, her eyes dancing. It was the wine. It had to be the wine. It absolutely was _not_ that sexy dimple just above his chin.

"Night, Berry."

"Goodnight, Puck."


	6. The door's open but the ride ain't free

**A/N: **Thanks a million for the reviews everyone! You are so fabulous and reading that you're enjoying the story I'm having so much fun writing just makes my day every time. As for this chapter, holy long one, Batman. I'll go ahead and apologize in advance to those that don't like to read song lyrics. There's only one song, but I just _couldn't_any of them out. You can always just skip that part, I suppose. :)

As always, a special thanks to Mandy, who tolerates my crazy and shares my desire for world domination. One day...

I'd also like to thank Jenna, Jen and Teri. Thanks for your input along the way. Oh, and to Desda, for being awesome and giving me a GREAT line to use. :)

I own nothing.

Happy New Year to all!

* * *

If Puck had to pick one thing in the world he hated above everything else, it would be rats. It wasn't that he was _afraid_ of rats. No, he was way too macho and badass for _that_. He hated them because they were disgusting, disease carrying rodents and their beady eyes and ringed tails made his skin crawl. And their creepy squeaking? Forget it. Re-fucking-volting!

So you can imagine the mood Puck was in as he and Finn ran up the stairs of the abandoned burning building when hundreds of rats ran down opposite him, shrieking in stereo. "Fucking rat bastards! You're fucking gross," he spat as they ascended the stairs. Don't even bother calling him a pussy. He'd kick your ass into the middle of next week for even trying. Besides, Indiana Jones hated snakes and that dude pulled in a _shitload_ of tail. No one ever called _him_ a pussy. (And he carried a whip and wore a cool ass hat.) A rat ran under his boot and he stumbled, cursing their very existence while Finn chuckled at him. "Man, go fuck yourself," Puck yelled, to Finn and the rat alike.

The duo reached the top floor of the building and the haze of smoke surrounding them was black and dense. Puck turned on the hose, dousing the flames that licked the walls. He approached a door, saw smoke coming out from under it. Checking for hot spots and finding it okay, he kicked in the door and blasted the room with water before setting foot inside with Finn towing the hose behind him.

They quickly found the source of the fire in some faulty wiring and had it handled shortly thereafter. As fires went, Puck considered it a two on a ten point scale. And one and a half of those points were due to contending with the nasty rats. He looked over at Finn and grumbled "Let's get the hell out of here."

Once all of the gear was packed away, he hopped into the passenger's seat, yelling at Finn to hurry his ass up.

"The fire's already out, dude. What's wrong? The rats mocking you?" Finn teased as he slid into the driver's seat, laughing when Puck scowled and flipped him off. "Why are you in such a shitty mood? Things not go well with that brunette you went home with last night?"

Puck's scowl grew deeper. Things had been going amazingly well until he told "Rachel" how much he wanted to fuck her and Jessica (Julie?) got all offended and kicked him out. But he didn't feel the need to share that bit of info with his buddy. "Not really…didn't feel very satisfied after."

"Huh—might be because you're hung up on Rachel."

He looked at Finn like he'd grown another head. "The fuck did you just say?"

Finn smiled affably at his best friend. "You heard me."

"You smoke something out of your upstairs hippie neighbor's stash today before you came to work?"

"I dunno, man, something about the way you like to push her buttons—"

"Look," he interrupted, "I'm not denying that she's hot. Hell, I'd hit that six ways from Sunday if I thought she'd be down for some no-strings action, but she seems way too high maintenance and into _relationship_ crap for me to even bother. Plus, she's your girlfriend's friend, so I'll just stay out of it. Literally and figuratively," he chuckled. He was _so_ hilarious sometimes. He laughed even harder at the confused look on Finn's face as he tried to put the pieces of the joke together. "Don't burn your brain out, Hudson. I just meant that I'd stay out of her pants."

"Okay, one, Quinn's not my girlfriend (yet), and two, I don't believe you about Rachel."

"Your hang up, not mine. Like I said, I'd probably fuck her brains out if I didn't think shit would get weird after, but you know me. And you're my bro, so even if I think you're a total vagina for getting mixed up in a relationship, I'm not about to fuck things up for you."

"That's really deep, Puck," Finn said drolly, his hand over his heart, shooting a grin across the rig. "But are you sure that maybe you just haven't met the right girl yet and—"

"Je-sus! Better pull over there to the _Duane Reade_ and get yourself some fucking tampons. And maybe a _Playboy _while you're at it…see if your dick can grow back."

Finn frowned, not appreciating his manhood being questioned and focused on the drive. Seeing something that piqued his interest, he slowed the rig down.

"Why are you stopping?" Puck grumbled.

"Quinn and Rachel," he grinned, pointing out the window, laughing when Puck quickly craned his head to get a better look. "Careful, buddy, might give yourself whiplash."

"Get bent!" He ogled appreciatively out the window. _Christ_, she had a good pair of legs…and those dark jeans were practically painted on. Screw what Finn thought. He and _Smalls_ had a semi-decent rapport now and he had a reputation to uphold as far as said rapport went. Rolling down the window he brought his fingers to his lips and whistled loudly. "Afternoon, ladies," he drawled.

Rachel and Quinn halted in their tracks and turned. Quinn grinned instantly, spotting Finn lifting a hand in the driver's seat. "Afternoon, gentlemen," she called back. Rachel was a little more hesitant, seeing the way Puck smirked playfully at her from the fire truck. He was always popping up when she least expected it, leaving her completely nonplussed.

He laughed at the annoyed look on Rachel's face and hopped out of the fire truck. "Wanna sit next to your boyfriend, Blondie?" he asked Quinn.

Quinn laughed softly, unaffected by his word choice, and climbed into the truck beside Finn making introductions with the other crew members.

"Lookin' good, Berry," he grinned.

Rachel sipped on her slushie, nearly choking on it as he strode towards her in his protective gear, the suspenders holding up his pants and his navy FDNY t-shirt stretched nicely across his broad shoulders. She felt particularly foolish for being so cliché about firemen, but this one was a very hot example…even if he was an ass. _Damn him_. "Don't you have work to do?" Her tone was bored as she tried not to salivate over the eye buffet in front of her.

"Just finished a run—heading back to the station now." He appraised her up and down, taking in the boots she wore over her jeans, gray sweater and messy ponytail. Her full lips were stained red in the middle from her drink. She was gorgeous.

"My eyes are up here," she snapped.

He smiled wickedly then and met her big doe eyes, which were once again shooting daggers in his direction. "I know where they are. Just appreciating your other—assets first."

"You've got black shit on your face," she informed him, taking another small sip of her cherry beverage. He wiped the wrong cheek with the back of his hand and she smirked, pointing to the other one.

Puck smoothly missed on purpose, but she remained rooted to her spot on the sidewalk, chuckling at him. "Why don't you help me then?" he asked in a gravelly voice.

"No," she clipped.

"You're killin' me, Smalls!"

Rachel held the straw in between her teeth and smiled at his _Sandlot _reference. She found she didn't really mind the nickname much. He angled his head and grinned impishly down at her, and she sighed, resigned. Rolling her eyes, she stepped forward and reached up to brush away the soot off his cheekbone with the pad of her thumb. "There," she murmured, then wiped off the soot onto the shoulder of his t-shirt.

His cheek tingled where she'd touched him and he felt like such a goddamn _girl_. "Was that good for you?" he asked lecherously, the shit-eating grin stretching across his face. _That's better._

"Okay, I'm bored now," she said, even as her fingers warmed.

"Whatever, you find me charming." He snatched the cup from her hand and sipped, his eyes smiling down into her irritated ones.

"Excuse me!" she scoffed, trying to grab the drink back from his thick hand. "Is it really that hard for you to grasp the concept of simple things like common decency and boundaries?"

"Mm, cherry!" he said, ignoring her. He took another sip. "I was wondering what flavor was all over your lips."

Rachel's eye roll was epic, her laugh incredulous. "Do these lines really work for you? Because I find them utterly ridiculous."

"Haven't had any complaints so far."

"Somehow I find that hard to believe. Give me back my drink!"

"Do you know what I used to do with these when I was in high school?" he asked, swirling the cup around in his grasp.

"I'm sure you're about to tell me," she said dryly, fully expecting to hear something disgusting and no doubt sexual.

"I used to throw them in people's faces." He laughed when her jaw dropped.

"That's cruel!"

He shrugged. "It was funny at the time."

"Can I have my drink back now, or are you going to throw it at me?"

Finn and Quinn watched the back and forth between Puck and Rachel from the window of the fire truck. "You could sell popcorn for this," Finn said, eyes wide.

"Shh, I can't hear what they're saying," Quinn said, leaning closer to the open window, a smile lighting her features. "Oh, Rachel looks annoyed. Puck really rubs her the wrong way."

"Watch this," Finn told her with a sneaky smile. "Hey, Rachel," he called casually out the window.

Both Rachel and Puck turned to look at Finn. "Yes, Finn?"

"Did Puck fill you in on his traumatic experience with the rats this morning?" He met Puck's eyes and smirked.

Puck frowned. "Hey, Quinn—be sure and ask Finn about the mailman sometime," he tossed back, sneering when his buddy's face fell. _Don't mess with the bull or you'll get the horns._ He turned back to Rachel whose eyes were dancing amusedly.

"Are you—afraid of rats?" she asked, stifling a laugh. She found the possibility highly amusing.

"I'm not afraid of anything," he defended. _Hudson is so dead._

"Just rats, then. Oh, and maybe giving up the frat boy mentality to make room for enlightened thinking."

"Shut up, Berry," he said grumpily.

She stole her drink back and smiled. "Nice comeback. Hey, Q, you ready? I need to go harangue my worthless landlord before rehearsal."

"Just a sec," Quinn called back, making plans with Finn for another date and enjoying the sight of him in uniform.

"What are you busting your landlord's balls about?" Puck asked, folding his arms over his chest. The thought of this tiny girl unleashing holy hell on her landlord made him smile.

"When I'll be able to get back into my apartment. He won't return any of my calls and I've left him several scathing messages. He's the epitome of unprofessional."

"That doesn't surprise me at all," he smirked. "Be careful going back to your apartment."

He sounded so sincere, and so—_unlike him_—that it threw her. "Why?" she asked, brows raised.

"Bums tend to set up camp in evacuated buildings," he said plainly.

"Oh. I—had no idea. Thank you for the warning."

"Just don't go there by yourself, okay?"

Rachel was speechless, and whether the speechlessness was due to the possibility of vagrants taking up shop in her apartment or the fact that Puck had been uncharacteristically _nice_ to her was anyone's guess. She just nodded wordlessly and sipped at her slushie.

"It's almost like our lips have touched," he teased, his tone smarmy, as Quinn appeared by Rachel's side.

"That was pathetic. You must still be traumatized from the rats earlier. Go save some lives or rescue a cat from a tree—I've got things to do." With one last sarcastic smile, she hooked her arm through Quinn's and started walking.

"You coming to our show or what?" he called, an impish grin lighting his chiseled face.

Quinn nodded while Rachel shrugged noncommittally. "If I'm not busy. See ya around, Puck."

He smirked after her and then hopped back into the rig.

Finn blew out a low whistle. "She's got your number, dude. I love it!"

"Don't make me kick your ass, Hudson," he said sourly as a call came in over the radio. Finn flipped the sirens on and they sped away.

~*~*~

Saturday night rolled around and Puck sat backstage of _Otto's Shrunken Head_, tuning his guitar and drinking a beer, while his band mates, Mike and Matt, argued over whether pirates or ninjas were more badass. Shit was getting heated and he just shook his head, smirking at their ridiculousness. Finn was around somewhere talking to Quinn on the phone trying to give her directions.

Part of him wondered if Rachel would actually show up and then he cursed himself for momentarily developing ovaries and having a goddamn period. It's not like he cared if she showed up or not. There was never a shortage of hot women at the bars they played and he never had a problem hooking one for the night. His looks and demeanor usually did the trick, but add his guitar playing and singing to the mix and the panties were dropping all over the place. (Puck = Stud)

Finn walked backstage and picked up his drumsticks, twirling them deftly between his fingers. "Quinn and Kurt are almost here," he said, keeping his eyes on Puck's face, grinning when he frowned a little.

"Cool," he grumbled, focused on his guitar strings. God, he needed to get the sand out of his vagina. Rachel never told him that she was for sure going to show up and he didn't know why he fucking cared in the first place. Okay, so maybe he wanted to put her in her place a little and wow her with his skills. She'd surprised the hell out of him with her musical ability and turnabout was fair play after all. "You tools about done with your pirates versus ninjas bullshit so we can go on stage or what?" he asked Mike and Matt.

Both of them had crestfallen expressions on their faces. "Dude, _not_ cool," Mike said, while Matt shook his head disappointedly. Puck cocked an eyebrow up at Finn who just shrugged. The M's rarely made sense to them.

"Whatever." He glanced down at his watch and saw that it was time to get this show on the road. "Let's go, dickheads. We've got a crowd to entertain."

~*~*~

"Charming venue," Kurt said, turning up his nose as he took in the tiki-themed décor. He picked up his fruity beverage that came in a festive tiki glass and sipped, his eyes going round as he swallowed. "Though this concoction is _delish_," he exclaimed, taking another hearty gulp.

"Don't be such a snob, Kurtsie," Quinn warned, breaking into a smile when she saw the guys take the stage to the applause of a few eager members in the crowd. Finn winked at her and she blushed, her smile brightening even further.

"My God, you two are so schmoopy!" he ribbed, catching the exchange.

She grinned into her drink, not caring one bit about his teasing. Date number two had gone even better than the first and she was tumbling for Finn Hudson at an alarmingly fast rate. They opened with _Hard to Handle_ and Quinn bobbed her head and sang along with the band, pleasantly surprised by the voice coming out of Puck's mouth. _Fire Extinguishers _were much better than she'd expected.

Kurt leaned in and grinned like the Cheshire cat. She recognized that look in his eyes. "What?" Quinn asked, one perfectly shaped brow arched sky high.

He leaned forward dramatically and folded his hands on the table. "Will our darling Rachel be attending tonight?"

"Ye-es," she said, drawing the word out slowly. "I've told you that five times already—once she's done with her show. Why?"

Kurt looked towards the stage and then back at his blonde friend. "She'll be a goner once she hears _that_ voice coming from _that_ man," he pointed.

Quinn turned her eyes towards the stage and listened more closely, realizing that he was absolutely spot on. "I think you're right, Kurt. The key to Rachel's heart is _definitely_ through her ears. Maybe then she can put this Tyler business behind her once and for all." The duo shared a conspiratorial grin and fluttered their fingers together in their own brand of a high five.

~*~*~

Rachel stepped out of the cab and looked up at the neon sign outside of the bar. After double checking her texts from Quinn to ensure that she was, in fact, in the right place, she paid the driver and headed for the door. The final strains of a Mellencamp song rang through the air as she showed the bouncer her ID, holding her hand out to be marked by the rubber stamp. She smiled in way of thanks and made a beeline for the bar, desperately needing a drink to unwind after two shows of her own that day.

She was later than she'd planned on being, having gone back and forth about whether or not she really wanted to come. Then there was the indecision over her wardrobe for the night, which was patently ridiculous seeing as it was a cover band playing in a tiki bar. But in the end, her curiosity about _Fire Extinguishers_ won as did her white lace-trimmed tank top, black leather jacket, skinny jeans and red high heels. And if she spent a little more time on her hair and makeup than normal, it was only to avoid Kurt giving her a hard time and nothing at all to do with the man playing a mean guitar on stage and singing _Mustang Sally_.

The bartender handed Rachel a bottle of beer and she took a healthy pull from the top as she scanned the bar for her friends. She walked closer to the stage and finally got a good look at Puck who was standing in the center performing. _Oh._ Her heart pumped just a little harder and in time with the rock notes of the old classic. The graveled edges of his voice had the corners of her lips turning upward as she moved closer still to get a better view. Finn pounded away on the drums, a look of happy concentration on his adorably handsome face.

Rachel felt a hand firm on her arm and turned to find Quinn, who then launched herself forward and wrapped her arms around her neck. She staggered back laughing, wrapping her arms around her friend.

"Yay, you're finally here!" she yelled over the music. "I was beginning to think you weren't going to show."

"Sorry—got hung up after the show," Rachel smiled.

Quinn gave her the onceover and whistled. "Getting dolled up, no doubt. You look hot!"

Rachel felt her cheeks blush. "It's just a tank top and jeans."

"And _come fuck me_ heels," she added with a wry grin. "Hoping to get your groupie act on after the show?" She poked Rachel playfully in the stomach. "You might have some competition. Just look at all of these women salivating over him."

"You're ridiculous and so far off the mark."

"If you say so," Quinn said doubtfully.

"I do. Where's Kurt?"

Quinn giggled and pointed over to their table where Kurt was downing another Tiki Punch and dancing in his seat.

"Is he—?"

"Bombed out of his gourd? You betcha! He's going to be so mad tomorrow when he realizes he consumed approximately ten bazillion calories." They both let out a hearty laugh and Quinn grabbed Rachel's hand, weaving through the crowd over to the table. "Don't they sound great? We're having so much fun—but it's even better now that you're here."

"_All you wanna do is ride around Sally. Ride, Sally, ride."_

His voice really was good and he looked like he was having a blast performing. She smiled fully when she looked to the stage. "They do," she agreed, dropping her bag on the table.

Kurt looked up with wide, glassy eyes and a bright smile on his boyish face. "İAy caramba, mamacita! Muy caliente!"

Rachel smirked, which gave way to a full blown grin. Drunk!Kurt and his predilection for speaking Spanish never failed to entertain. "Gracias, Señor!" she said sassily.

"Let's get closer to the stage," Quinn suggested, grabbing Rachel's hand again and dragging her along, ignoring the rude comments from other women in the crowd as they pushed their way to the front.

"Jesus, Quinn," Rachel said, rolling her shoulder. "I think you nearly pulled my arm out of the socket."

"Suck it up, pal." She looked to the back of the small stage where Finn was and felt the giddy thrill course through her body. "God, he's so cute."

"Good kisser?" Rachel asked with a dimpled grin.

Quinn flushed hot and caught her bottom lip between her teeth, nodding slowly. "Mmm hmm!"

"Look at the bright side—at least when he sets you on fire he'll know how to put the flames out again," she said with a cheeky smile, nudging Quinn's shoulder.

~*~*~

He'd noticed her almost from the moment she'd walked into the bar. It was like he had some strange Spidey-sense-slash-Rachel-radar—and that weirded his shit out. Still, he was glad to see her. Besides, she looked _smokin'_ and that was always a point in the plus column as far as he was concerned.

Puck sang the last few bars of _Mustang Sally_ and smirked behind the microphone when he saw Quinn drag Rachel to the front of the audience. They had one more song planned before the break, so he decided to play one that was sure to knock her socks off. Because even though he had zero interest in a girlfriend (totally worth repeating as often as possible) that didn't mean he didn't like making girls swoon and pant after him. He turned and exchanged a few quick words with his band mates and stepped up to the mic again. "This is our last song before the break and it's dedicated to Smalls, who decided to grace us with her presence tonight." _Yeah, that's right…a dedication. He was no amateur. He was the fucking man._ Puck slanted his eyes in her direction and couldn't miss the shocked look in her eyes nor the tiny smile playing on her lips.

Rachel's stomach did a loopty-loop when he dedicated the song to her and she felt the goose bumps break out over her arms when he brought the harmonica to his lips and the opening notes of _Thunder Road_ poured out in time with the piano. She was vaguely aware of Quinn digging her elbow into her ribs like _OhmyGodRachel_, but everything melted away when he closed his eyes and opened his mouth. All she could see and hear was this man with his beautiful and deep voice singing one of her favorite songs in the whole world.

_The screen door slams, Mary's dress waves  
Like a vision she dances across the porch as the radio plays  
Roy Orbison singing for the lonely  
Hey, that's me and I want you only  
Don't turn me home again, I just can't face myself alone again  
Don't run back inside, darling, you know just what I'm here for  
So you're scared and you're thinking that maybe we ain't that young anymore  
Show a little faith, there's magic in the night  
You ain't a beauty but, hey, you're alright  
Oh, and that's alright with me_

The song began to build as Puck strummed his guitar and Finn came in on the drums.

_You can hide 'neath your covers and study your pain  
Make crosses from your lovers, throw roses in the rain  
Waste your summer praying in vain  
For a savior to rise from these streets  
Well now, I ain't no hero, that's understood  
All the redemption I can offer, girl, is beneath this dirty hood  
With a chance to make it good somehow  
Hey, what else can we do now?_

Rachel looked around the crowd and smiled at everyone dancing and singing along. She caught Quinn watching her and she smiled and the two joined in right along with them.

_  
Except roll down the window and let the wind blow back your hair  
Well, the night's busting open, these two lanes will take us anywhere  
We got one last chance to make it real  
To trade in these wings on some wheels  
Climb in back, heaven's waiting on down the tracks_

_Oh-oh, come take my hand  
We're riding out tonight to case the promised land  
Oh-oh-oh-oh, Thunder Road  
Oh, Thunder Road, oh, Thunder Road  
Lying out there like a killer in the sun  
Hey, I know it's late, we can make it if we run  
Oh-oh- oh- oh, Thunder Road  
Sit tight, take hold, Thunder Road_

His eyes met hers and she could've sworn she saw the briefest grin flash across his face as he held her gaze and sang the next verse. She didn't care or feel embarrassed. She didn't shy away from the intensity of the look between them. She just flashed him a dazzling smile and continued to sing the words of The Boss as the music swept through her.

_Well, I got this guitar and I learned how to make it talk  
And my car's out back if you're ready to take that long walk  
From your front porch to my front seat  
The door's open but the ride ain't free  
And I know you're lonely for words that I ain't spoken  
But tonight we'll be free, all the promises'll be broken_

Puck broke the look and turned back to the rest of the crowd to finish out the song.

_There were ghosts in the eyes of all the boys you sent away  
They haunt this dusty beach road in the skeleton frames of burned-out Chevrolets  
They scream your name at night in the street  
Your graduation gown lies in rags at their feet  
And in the lonely cool before dawn  
You hear their engines rolling on  
But when you get to the porch, they're gone on the wind  
So Mary, climb in  
It's a town full of losers, I'm pulling out of here to win_

The band played out the instrumental end of the song and earned every last one of the enthusiastic cheers and rounds of applause, according to Rachel, who clapped her hands and turned to find Quinn watching her with a curious expression on her pretty face. "What? I love Springsteen," she shrugged, making Quinn roll her eyes playfully. "I'm going to get another drink. Want one?"

"Sure. Just a beer for me," Quinn answered. "No more Tiki Punch for Kurt though."

Rachel laughed and peeled off her leather jacket. It was entirely too hot inside for it now. "Here, take this. Be right back with our beers."

She leaned against the bar, watching the bartender work as she waited for him to take her order, humming along with the Bob Marley tune that blared through the speakers.

Puck walked to the end of the bar for faster service and saw her resting casually against the bar, now sans jacket and looking hot as fuck. "Hey, Berry!" he boomed over the din.

Rachel's head snapped up and she looked over, spying Puck grinning wickedly at her. She lifted a hand in greeting. The smile tugged at her lips when he motioned her over with a slight jerk of his head. She wanted to stay right where she was, but her feet had other plans evidently, because she skirted around the other thirsty patrons to get to where he was standing. Reading his t-shirt _Biff Tannen is a jerk _made her burst into laughter. "Hey," she giggled up at him.

One eyebrow cocked, he stared questioningly down at her. "What?"

"I like your shirt."

He smirked and was somewhat surprised that she got the reference. But really, who _doesn't_ like _Back to the Future_? "Thanks." His eyes traveled down the length of her body and took in the sight of the delicate swells of her breasts peeking out the top of her tank. No way was she wearing a bra under it, he thought, grinning lecherously. "I like yours, too."

It was a sad day indeed when she was growing accustomed to the filth that spewed from his mouth. She blamed her two performances that day and The Boss—and maybe the beads of sweat glistening off him and the scruff on his face—for disarming her. "You're a disgusting pig," she said without malice, even smiling slightly.

Puck laughed then. "You sound less sure of that these days."

Rachel shrugged, not wanting to dwell on that idea, and looked over towards the bartender and then back at Puck. "I don't suppose you get faster drink service since you're with the band do you?"

Her dark eyes sparkled humorously in the neon light of a _Parrot Bay_ sign, though her expression remained sober. The contradiction made him laugh. "Maybe. You trying to take advantage of me?"

"Only for the beer," she replied tartly.

"Hey, Randy! How about a few beers down here before I get so old my fucking balls shrivel up and fall off." He looked back and Rachel and smiled.

"Charming," she remarked dryly.

He lifted and dropped a shoulder carelessly, looking her over again. "Got your lift kit on tonight?" he asked, pointing to the hot red shoes on her feet. He thought those would look amazing hoisted in the air while he moved between her thighs.

"My what?" she asked, feeling the heat radiate off him in waves.

The corner of his mouth upturned. "Your lift kit—you're less short tonight, Smalls."

She glanced down at her feet and then back up at his face. "Oh."

"What can I get you, Puck?" Randy, the bartender, asked.

Puck got a few beers for himself the guys and lifted a brow at Rachel. "Two Miller Lites," she told the man in the Hawaiian shirt.

"Thirsty?" he asked, amused.

"One's for Quinn."

"So you're not a lush?"

"Not tonight," she laughed.

The question on the tip of his tongue went unspoken when Randy reappeared with their beers, setting them down on the bar. She hadn't said anything about the band or the song and the pang of—God, the pang of _disappointment_—was quick and edgy and foreign as _fuck_. He wasn't about to do anything as gay as _asking _what she thought until the words burst forth from his mouth in a rare pussified display of weakness. "So, what'd you think of our band?" _Christ on a crutch. Shut your fucking mouth._

Rachel's smiled slowly, amused by the internal war the thoughts in his head seemed to be waging. "You guys sound really great—loved _Thunder Road_. That's one of my all-time favorites." When he smirked proudly, his swagger back in full effect, she chuckled. "You were a little flat in parts, but overall very, very good."

He snorted and shook his head, drawing the beer bottle up to his lips. "Thanks, Berry," he drawled sarcastically.

"Just trying to help," she stated and reached for two of the beers. "Can't wait to hear your next set." She tipped the bottle to her mouth and sipped, then clinked her bottle against his. "Thanks for the drinks—and my dedication—it's almost like we're friends now." The dimples winked in her cheeks as she smiled at him and turned to walk away.

"Hey, Berry," he called after her.

She paused and turned back to him. "Yes, Puck?"

"Between almost friends…your ass looks _hot _in those jeans." The grin on his face turned completely roguish when she blushed first, failing to mask it with a quick roll of her eyes.

"Puck, make like a tree and get outta here!" she called, quoting the character that inspired his t-shirt. Rachel flashed him her million-watt smile and went to join her friends.

* * *

Song: _Thunder Road_ by the incomparable Bruce Springsteen

Feedback as always is appreciated. Warms my black heart.


	7. A little less fight, a little more spark

**A/N:** Again, thank you all _so, so much_ for all of your reviews, alerts and kind words. I cannot even begin to express how happy it makes me that all of you lovely people are enjoying this story. :)

As always, a special thank you to Mandy, who puts up with my crazy and talks me down off the ledge when I need it. XOXO, pal.

* * *

Two weeks had passed since the _Fire Extinguishers_ performance and since then Rachel had moved out of Quinn's luxury apartment and back into her own comfortable and modest digs. She'd taken Puck's advice on not going back there alone. In fact, Quinn had talked both Finn and Puck into checking out the apartment first. Rachel was secretly relieved due to her overactive imagination and the band of hobos she was _convinced_ was trying on her clothes and sleeping in her bed ever since Puck had given her the warning. Everything had been completely fine though, and aside from desperately needing to air out the smell of stale smoke, her apartment was just as she'd left it. As a thank you, she'd bought a case of beer and some pizzas and move-in slash cleaning day had turned into an impromptu game night where Finn and Quinn had been nauseatingly cute cuddled up on her loveseat while she and Puck had traded barbs as they sat opposite one another in her living room trying to one up the other on pop culture trivia.

They were almost friends now, she and Puck. Kind of—she _thinks_. They'd seen each other a couple more times with Finn and Quinn and had bumped into one another the other afternoon at _Whole Foods_. (In case you were wondering, yes, it _is_ possible to make frozen foods sound dirty if you're walking around the store with Puck.) And while he made it his mission to get under her skin by saying disgusting things, she found now that she was more amused by his overtly sexual innuendos than completely repulsed. Quinn and Kurt were still not very subtle in their attempts to hint that she should hookup with Puck. In fact, they were about as subtle as an atomic bomb, and her constant insisting that she wasn't interested merely fell on deaf ears.

Rachel didn't mind making new friends, but in all honesty, she was still smarting over her ex, Tyler, and the broken heart he'd left her with after she'd walked in on him screwing another girl in their bed. It wasn't that she missed Tyler, because she _absolutely did not_. She knew she was well rid of that asshole and his cheating, lying ways. But the humiliation she'd felt (still felt) had been a very bitter pill to swallow. She hated him for pulling the wool down so far over her eyes and making a fool of her. For making her _doubt_ her best friends when they suspected something strange was going on with him. But above all else, she hated him for charming her and making her love him _so much_ and giving up her heart _so completely_, because he'd tossed it carelessly back in her face broken, bloody and mangled. She wasn't sure that she'd ever be able to love anyone that freely again and for that she _utterly despised_ him.

She moved on more every day, but that didn't mean she was a glutton for punishment. Puck was undoubtedly sexy and charming, but in a very dangerous way. He was not the kind of guy that would be careful with your heart or even _wanted_ anything to do with your heart in the first place. So it baffled her that her best friends would try and steer her in his direction. At this point in her life, she was content to focus on her career and surround herself with her two amazing best friends. (And _maybekindasorta_ enjoy the _almost friendship_ she was having with the fireman.)

That Wednesday, she spent her day off the way she normally did getting caught up on chores she tended to neglect throughout the rest of the week and enduring the necessary evil that was trainer Hilda. She'd also gone shopping (not _just _for bad moods) and had her hair trimmed. Tonight she planned on vegging out on her sofa and catching up on her recorded shows, very much looking forward to a mini-marathon of _The Vampire Diaries_ and the gorgeous Salvatore brothers. (The fact that she's partial to bad boy Damon means absolutely nothing)

She slid into an empty seat on the subway and tucked her shopping bags under her feet, pulling out the rest her newspaper to read on the ride home. Flipping to the style section, her heart momentarily stopped and her mouth went dry as dust. There, in large black and white, was Tyler and his _whore_ smiling out at her announcing their nuptials that took place last Saturday. _Mother fucker!_

Rachel kept it together on the subway and during the walk back to her apartment. Once she was inside, she dumped her purchases by the door and walked right back out again. If she stayed there, she'd end up doing something stupid—like feel sorry for herself or shed tears that didn't need to be shed again.

~*~*~

Puck was having a pretty decent night. It was about to get a whole lot better now that the brown eyed brunette NYU student who'd approached him at Starbucks (his FDNY t-shirt never failed) was on her knees and reaching for his belt. Just as she was easing the zipper of his jeans down, his cell phone rang to life with Rachel's ringtone.

_I love it when you call me big pop-pa  
Throw your hands in the air, if youse a true player  
I love it when you call me big pop-pa  
To the honies gettin money playin niggaz like dummies _

He dug into his pocket for his phone and Holli (yeah, with an _i_…she'd explained that shit _thoroughly_) looked at him like he'd lost his mind. Maybe he had. Regardless, he flipped open his phone and said, "Berry—to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Hi, Puck. Are you busy?"

Puck smirked at her question. Oh, if she only knew. "Nope. What's up?"

"We're sorta friends now. Aren't we?"

The hell? "'Course we are, Smalls. You drunk?"

"Not yet, though I think that is the plan. Want to come have a drink with me?"

Unexpected, sure, but definitely a welcome surprise. "Sure. Where are you?" She rattled off the name and address of the bar. "Be there in twenty."

"See you then."

He shut his phone and quickly stood, zipping his jeans and fastening his belt.

"What the _fuck? _You're leaving?" she screeched, scrambling to her feet.

"Sorry. Something better came along," he said, his tone unapologetic.

"Drinks with a guy named Barry?" She grabbed a throw pillow from the couch and hurled it at him.

Puck grabbed his coat off the floor and slipped it on, biting back a laugh. "Something like that." This time he did laugh and had the foresight to duck when she threw the remote at him. Damn, bitch was _crazy_. "See ya (never)," he called, heading for the door.

"You…are a fucking asshole!"

He turned and shrugged. "I've been called worse," he informed her and strolled out of the apartment.

As the cold autumn night air hit him in the face, it dawned on him that he'd just walked out on a _blowjob_ from a hot co-ed to go have a _beer_ with Rachel Berry.

"Fuck my life," he muttered.

~*~*~

He walked into _Wicked Willy's_ and scanned the growing crowd for Rachel, spotting her alone in a large, round booth. She was staring down at the table and absently fingering a cardboard coaster. It was karaoke night and it seemed that all of New York's most untalented were in attendance. Approaching, he peeled off his jacket and tossed it down into the booth before sliding in beside her. "Hiya, Berry," he greeted with a crooked smile, leaning back casually.

Rachel startled and her eyes snapped to his chiseled face, found him grinning at her. _God_, w_hy did I call him of all people? _"Hey," she said tentatively, picking up the glass in front of her and gulped.

"Something troubling you, Smalls?" he asked, lifting a hand to signal the waitress. She snorted into her glass and downed the rest of her drink in one greedy gulp. He was pretty impressed. "I'll take that as a yes." What he didn't know is why she would've called him rather than Quinn or Kurt.

She sat her glass down heavily on the table and scrubbed her hands over her face before turning to look at him. With a steadying deep breath, she opened her mouth. "Ugh. Okay. I was having a really great day off, and then I got some news I would have been more than happy going the rest of my life without knowing. I didn't want to be at home because if I was at home I would have felt sorry for myself and that's the last thing I want or need. And I didn't want to call Quinn or Kurt because as much as I love them, I would have had to talk about it endlessly and I really just _can't handle_ the Spanish Inquisition tonight. I'm not sure why I called you. In fact, that was probably a mistake. I just figured that you wouldn't ask a ton of questions and I didn't want to drink alone. Don't get the wrong idea about this or anything…this is _not_ me coming on to you or giving into the bevy of sexual overtures you toss in my direction every time I see you…I just figured that since we were _sorta friends_ now…you know what, no, this was a mistake. I'll just go—"

"Berry, Berry, Berry," he interrupted. Sweet Moses she could ramble on and at alarming speeds. "Take a breath." He was beginning to regret walking out on _whatsherfuck_—but not nearly as much as he probably _should _have. _Where was the damn waitress? He needed a goddamned beer_.

Rachel did just as he'd instructed and took a big breath, then pressed her lips into a thin, tight line as her cheeks warmed with embarrassment. He was looking down at her with a sly grin on his face, his eyes dancing mirthfully. She wanted to die. _This was such a poor decision, Rachel_. It was yet one more thing she could blame Tyler for. "Sorry," she murmured, reaching for her glass, forgetting it was empty.

"You're good, motor mouth. But just so we're clear, we're _not_ talking about whatever's bothering you?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Alright. And you're _not_ hitting on me?"

Her lips twitched into a smile seeing the roguish look on his face. "No."

"Pity," he said impishly. "Okay then…so you want to get drunk and maybe make some bad decisions?"

Rachel laughed then. She could only imagine what constituted as _bad decisions_ in Puck's universe. "Nice try, but I think I'll just stick with the drunk part."

"Berry!" he scolded playfully. "You're no fun."

She shrugged and toyed with the scarf around her neck. Her phone buzzed on the table and she eyed it warily, but reached for it, discovering she had several new messages.

_Quinn: Call me. _

_Kurt: Q just filled me in. R u ok? _

_Quinn: Want 2 talk?_

_Kurt: Where r u?_

_Quinn: UR not home & UR not answering. I'm worried._

_Kurt: Answer ur phone!_

"Ugh, just leave me alone!" she yelled at her phone, feeling like a crazy person. She fired off a quick _I'm fine_ to both of her concerned friends and dropped her phone back on the table.

"Alright, Berry—we're gonna break rule one of our little fight club tonight."

Her brows furrowed in confusion as she stared at him, blinking owlishly. "Excuse me? Fight club?"

"It—" he shook his head. "Never mind. What's wrong? Clue me in really quick and then I'll get you plenty drunk and then we can show these tone deaf assholes a thing or two about karaoke." Someone was currently butchering Johnny Cash and offending his ears. When she hesitated he nudged her shoulder. "Come on," he prodded, "it might make you feel better to talk about it with someone who doesn't know all the details." _Jesus H. Christ—he was prodding her to talk about feelings. This was some bizarre-o shit right here._

Rachel eyed him cagily while she pondered his words. Blowing out a big, slow breath, she reached into her bag and pulled out the newspaper, tossing it onto the table Tyler side up. "My ex and the strumpet I found him fucking in our bed," she snapped, stabbing her index finger onto the announcement for emphasis. "I'd send them a gift, but I don't know that there's a _Pricks & Whores_ _R Us _around and there's nothing suitable at _Sheets-n-Things_."

His first instinct was to laugh, because it seemed that only Rachel Berry would use the term _strumpet_ and then follow it up with _pricks and whores_. Quickly realizing that laughing would be a really dumbass idea, he picked up the paper and read.

_Daphne Serena von Wenning…_

"Daphne Serena von Wenning?" he asked with an arched brow. "What the fuck kind of name is that?"

"Ridiculous, isn't it?" Rachel laughed dryly.

"Completely," he agreed, turning his eyes back to the paper.

_Daphne Serena von Wenning and Tyler James Fleming were married Saturday at St. Bartholomew's Church on Park Avenue in New York. The Reverend Bruce Forbes officiated._

"You were involved with a _goy_, Berry? What did your bubbie think?" he asked with a smirk, full on grinning when she rolled her eyes and chuckled softly.

"Shut up, Puck," she said easily, picking up the fresh cocktail in front of her.

Blah, blah, _ages_, blah blah _jobs_, blah blah, _parents_. Both of these people sounded like pretentious assholes. "You still hung up on this guy?" he asked indifferently.

"No," she said definitively.

"Sure about that?" he asked her pointedly, holding her chocolate brown gaze.

She nodded insistently. "Yes."

"Then why the fuck are you letting him ruin your night?"

It was a good question. A very valid question, albeit with a little more profanity than she'd have used. "I…" she began, quickly closing her mouth when nothing followed. For so long she'd been hurting over this and it was almost as if she was conditioned to have a response any time Tyler was mentioned. Still, it had hurt to see his _wedding announcement_ to the woman who'd had a hand in destroying her happiness. He'd done a number on her for sure, but as she stared up into Puck's questioning eyes (they looked green today), she really didn't feel all that bad anymore. "I have no idea," she finally blurted, a small smile on her lips as a huge wave of relief washed over her.

"Me neither. That douche looks like he wouldn't know the first thing about how to handle a woman in bed…especially one as fiery as yourself." Her jaw dropped. He grinned.

"Puck—"

"Hey, you called me—this is me helping. Take it or leave it." He picked up his beer and took a big drink.

In disbelief, she sputtered out a breathy laugh and fell back against the backrest in the booth. "Fine," she heard herself say, eyes cast on the ceiling. "I'll take it." She sat up and grew a little leery the moment that lightning quick, wicked grin flashed across his face.

"Let's play a little game," he suggested.

Rachel started to protest, but his arched eyebrow stopped her. She'd already agreed to his brand of help. (God help her) "What kind of game?" she asked nervously.

"I'm going to ask you some questions and you have to answer without thinking. Just say the first thing that comes to your mind."

"Okay," she said skeptically.

He smirked into his glass and took another drink of his beer. "Okay. Better friend, Quinn or Kurt?"

"Quinn," she said without thinking, feeling slightly guilty towards her other fabulous friend.

"Favorite singer?"

"Barbra."

Puck rolled his eyes and chuckled. "Of _course_ it fucking is." Rachel kicked him under the table. "Favorite thing to do?"

"Sing."

"Best sex you ever had?"

"Ben Prindle," she said enthusiastically, promptly slapping her hands over her mouth and flaming every shade of red under the sun.

He laughed and gestured to the newspaper. "See, what'd I say? I'm guessing lover boy there didn't meet your needs very well."

"This conversation is inappropriate," she protested weakly. That statement had sounded _so_ much better in her head.

"Well, Smalls, as you like to point out every time I see you, I _am inappropriate_ so I don't know why you're surprised. Shouldn't almost friends be accepting of each others' flaws—or in my case strengths and badassness?"

A giggle bubbled up in her throat. "Sure, Puck. Whatever you say."

"Great," he smirked. "Okay, back to why this ex of yours couldn't satisfy you."

"I never said that," she stammered.

"Yeah, you did. If he'd been good, you'd have answered his name when I asked you about the best sex ever. So, what was it about Tyson?"

"Tyler," she corrected.

"Whatever. Tiny dick? Kinda looks like he would."

"How do you know what tiny dicked men look like?" she asked, cocking her head to the side and smirking at him.

Puck paused, momentarily rendered speechless from her verbal kick in the balls. "Oh, fuck off, Berry, you know what I meant. So, was that it?"

If you'd have told her two months ago that she would be sitting in a karaoke bar discussing the size of her ex's penis with a crude, foul-mouthed, yet very hot fireman, she'd have suggested a mental institution. Well, technically it wasn't a discussion because there was only one person talking about it so far, until she opened her mouth and said, "His size wasn't the problem."

"Now you're admitting there was a problem." He no longer regretted walking out on Haylie (?), because this night was getting hella interesting.

Rachel averted her eyes and picked up her drink, annoyed to find it empty again, but settled for the ice cubes. She looked over at him and found him watching her with a look that clearly told her he was waiting on some elaboration. This night was just _weird_ and she knew that this conversation was probably a horrible idea, but at least she was feeling better. After holding up her glass and signaling for another from their waitress, she glanced down at the picture of the newlyweds and figured _what the hell?_ "He was selfish and he wasn't very good at…" she trailed off.

_Now we're talking. _"Wasn't very good at _what_, Berry?" Seeing her hesitation, he decided a diversionary tactic was in order. "Do you have a pen?"

Her mind couldn't keep up. "A pen?"

Puck mimed writing something. "Yes, Smalls, a pen. We're going to improve this article here." He grabbed the newspaper and held his hand out for the pen she found in her bag. "Continue…" he gestured with his hand.

"Um…" she saw him draw a Hitler mustache on Tyler and she giggled, her head starting to feel light from the alcohol. "He was…um, he was…really…terribleatgoingdownonme," she mumbled as fast as she possibly could, half hoping the dreadful girl murdering _Girls Just Wanna Have Fun_ on stage drowned her out. From the wicked look of smug satisfaction on his face, she knew that wasn't the case. "Oh, God," she groaned, thoroughly embarrassed.

"I'm _so_ glad you called me, Berry," he grinned. "This is very telling. Can't you just _feel_ our friendship losing it's _almost_ status?" He smirked at the look on her face and wrote _Shit at licking pussy _above douchebag's head with an arrow pointing down.

"I'm going to the bar. I need more alcohol if I'm going to survive this," she said, grabbing her bag and scooting out of the booth. "You want something?" she asked over her shoulder.

He took in the way her dark hair curled gently over her shoulder and her big brown eyes looked down into his. She was so fucking hot, even more so now that he was learning all of this info about her. "That's a loaded question," he grinned.

She leaned over and smacked him upside the head. "From the bar, you idiot!"

He winced slightly, but laughed. "What are you having?"

"Tequila."

And the surprises just kept coming. "Tequila makes me mean, but one won't hurt. And a beer." He entertained very dirty thoughts about her and oral sex while he continued defacing the toolbox's face, along with his bride's, whose eyes were way too close together to even walk through the neighborhood of attractive. (He drew a dick in her mouth)

Rachel returned with the drinks and slid back into the booth, nearly falling over when she saw the improvements Puck had made to the wedding announcement. "Jesus—that's hilarious," she laughed.

He smirked proudly. "Thanks." He watched intently as she reached for the salt shaker on the tray and her pink tongue darted out of that sexy mouth of hers to lick the inside of her wrist. (Lucky wrist) She salted the area and just as she was lifting it to her lips, he thought _fuck it_ and grabbed her wrist, halting her, her eyes shooting over to meet his. Puck slowly brought it to his own lips. With a wicked grin, he licked the salt free from her skin. Her eyes went wide, and he winked before knocking back the shot of tequila, feeling it burn a warm trail down his throat.

Heat pooled between her legs and she shivered from head to foot, her radial pulse pounding a mad tattoo where he'd _licked_ her. _Oh. My. God. _His smirk turned into an all out leer and part of her wanted to slink under the table and die while the other part wanted to mount him in the booth and never let go. _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! Danger. Danger, Will Robinson! _Maybe she could pretend that didn't just happen. _Sure, what a prize idea, you moron._ She gave it a go anyway, reaching for the salt shaker between them.

Puck held out his wrist for her. "Here, you can do me," he rasped, biting back a chuckle at the appalled look in her eyes.

"Go do yourself, you Neanderthal," she spat, purposely salting her hand instead of her wrist, quickly doing the shot.

"It's fun to ruffle your feathers, Berry," he told her mischievously.

His eyes sparkled humorously when she looked over at him. "Oh, fuck off, Puck," she said lightly, tossing his earlier words back in his face. She slid down the seat and he stopped her, grabbing her arm.

"Where are you going?"

"To sing. I can't listen to this _garbage_ anymore," she said pointing a finger to other patrons in the bar. "My ears are going to bleed."

"Don't pick out anything lame like Celine Dion or, sweet Lord, Barbra Streisand. There's a time and place for that shit I suppose, but it ain't here and now."

Her lips twitched into a slow, bright smile as her head swam with the effects of even more booze in her system. _Why was it you could never feel the booze until you stood up? _She couldn't even bring herself to defend her idols' honor. "I wasn't going to."

"Sing something _fun!_ If it's not fun, I'm leaving, Smalls."

"Chill out, mother Pucker!" She found her statement and the look on his face utterly hilarious and she doubled over laughing.

"Christ almighty, Berry—you're half tanked," he said, laughter rumbling in his chest.

She bobbled her head in full agreement and waved as she hurried towards the karaoke stage.

Puck nursed the beer in front of him and turned when he heard Rachel's name being called up next. At least he was going to finally hear something that didn't make his ears hurt even if she did pick a shitty song.

"_Wake up in the morning feeling like P. Diddy. Grab my glasses, I'm out the door, I'm gonna hit this city…"_

He watched, highly entertained, as she enthralled the audience with the popular song, amazing voice and stage presence. Even though she was half bombed, she sounded a million times better than anyone else so far that night. She looked bright eyed and carefree while she shimmied and bounced along the stage while she sang. He nearly spit out his beer when she got the part about "_er'body getting crunk, crunk and boys try to touch my junk, junk" _when she gestured to her own goodies. Goddamn, she was _fun_.

She was laughing as she spilled back into the booth beside him and tumbled against him. "Whoops," she laughed even harder trying to sit up.

Puck shook his head. "Easy, killer," he told her, helping her upright. "Nice song, by the way. Personally enjoyed you pointing at your junk."

"Thanks," she grinned. "Your turn. Oooh, wait! You know what would be _so much _fun?"

His lips twitched. Drunk!Rachel was fucking hilarious. "What's that, Berry?"

"If you let me sing with _Fire Extinguishers_ sometime!" She nodded her head like it was the best idea she'd ever had. "You could play guitar, and Finn could play drums, and the other two—whatever. I could sing some songs, we could sing some songs. Oh, oh, oh! And I could play tambourine!"

Puck laughed, but didn't think her idea was all _that_ ridiculous. "Could be fun, Smalls."

She clapped her hands excitedly. "Yay! Can I have a tambourine, too?"

"I 'spose," he shrugged.

"Excellent. We should probably write this stuff down, don't you think? So we don't forget?" Her face had tried to look serious, but she giggled and negated any and all seriousness.

"Damn, Berry, you sing one pop song and now ya wanna bust my balls and write a contract to sing with my band?" he asked, teasing.

"I'm not—busting your _balls_, Puck. But a contract is a good, _good idea, _even if we are _friends_ now…you should always put stuff in writing!" She waved a bar napkin in his face. "We'll use this."

"So, we're full on friends now?" he grinned cheekily.

"Uh huh," she agreed, her dimples flashing in her cheeks. She took the pen off the table and began crafting the "contract" for her to sing with _Fire Extinguishers_ for a night, finding even penning her name a difficult challenge. So she drew a stick figure with long hair and a little arrow pointing to it that said _Me_ with a star next to it. She could feel Puck's breath on her cheek as he looked over her shoulder while she worked and the rumble of laughter in his chest. She may have imagined that she leaned back against him. (She _totally_ didn't imagine it) Next, she drew a picture of him and he then started complaining about his lack of guns in the picture, so he snatched the pen from her hand. "Hey!" she cried.

"I'll give it back, Berry, Jesus! I need to make a few improvements first." He drew tits on her stick figure and a short, short skirt.

"My boobs are _small_, Puck, not those big melons," Rachel insisted.

He looked her over and smirked. "They're not that small, Berry. You've got a mouthful, and really, what more does a guy need?" He laughed when she smacked his shoulder, though the "menacing" look she tried to give didn't quite reach her eyes or have the effect she probably desired.

Puck drew bulging muscles on his arms and a fire extinguisher in the middle of the napkin. And he added in a tambourine so she'd stop saying the goddamn word _tambourine. _"Anything else?" he asked. She shook her head and reached for his beer. He pulled it out of reach and shook his head. "I think you've had your fill, Berry."

She gave him two thumbs down and yelled "Boo!"

"Come on, let's get out of here."

"But you haven't done your song yet."

"Berry, I just _did it!_" he lied. The scrunched look of concentration on her face was _seriously cute_.

"Okay…I'm sorry I don't remember it. I'm sure you were great…though maybe just a _smidge_ flat in parts. I could help you with that if you want. I'm a very talented singer." She smiled and crawled out of the booth, fumbling to put on her coat.

He snorted and put on his own coat. "Thanks, Berry," he muttered.

She shrugged and gathered her things from the table, shoving them haphazardly into her bag. "Where are we going?"

"I'm taking you home," he informed her, leading her towards the exit.

"Oh, Puck, I can get home by myself," she insisted, stumbling onto the sidewalk. His arms came around her middle and kept her from taking a header into the concrete. "Oops!" she laughed.

"Sure you can, Smalls," he drawled sarcastically, getting a good whiff of her perfume and shampoo. She smelled like citrus and mint. "But why don't you let me help you anyway?" She turned and peered up at him under hooded, long-lashed eyes, her dimples winking. _Goddammit_. Did she not have any idea what effect that _look_ had?

"Thanks, friend," she murmured softly. "Ooh, there's a cab," she shouted excitedly. Bringing her fingers to her mouth, she whistled.

He poured her into the cab and slid in next to her, repeating her address to the driver after she mumbled incoherently.

~*~*~

She'd gone quiet on the short ride to her building, her head resting against the cool pane of the window. He'd watched her briefly, but felt kind of like a pussy and a creeper all in one, so he turned and looked out his own window. Tossing some bills to the driver the cab stopped, he leaned over her and patted her face. "Come on, Berry, time to wake up." The soft little moan that passed through her lips stirred the lust he had for her in his gut. _Not the time, fuckwit._

She woke up enough to climb out of the cab with his help and she shuffled along the sidewalk, muttering something he couldn't discern. Realizing it would take approximately a _decade_ to get to her apartment at this speed, he picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder.

"Mmmfph," she mumbled, stirring awake. "Hey, why am I upside down? Puck, why are you carrying me?" she asked quietly, making him chuckle.

"Because, drunk ass, you walk slower than my ninety year old grandma with a broken leg."

She giggled.

"Hey, this is like the first time we met," she told him, as the realization dawned on her.

"Yeah, only the first time you were dumb ass and now you're just a drunk ass. Either way, Puckerone to the rescue."

"Puckerone," she laughed. "You're funny. Pucker—Puckeroni!" Peals of laughter rippled through the air.

He got to the fifth floor and unlocked her door, carrying her through the apartment and into her bedroom. Seriously? He was in Rachel's bedroom with no chance at getting laid. _Fuck my life. Again._ He set her down on her feet and helped her with the buttons on her coat which she peeled off and tossed onto the immaculate floor along with her scarf. She kicked off her shoes and crawled on the bed, sitting up on her knees. Her lips curled into a seductive smile, her lashes lowered as she slowly looped her arms around his neck. _Fuck._

"Puck…thanks for taking my mind off things tonight," she whispered.

This was going down a very dangerous path that he wasn't equipped to walk away from. "No sweat, Berry. It was very educational for me," he teased, fighting to keep his hands at his sides and not put them where he really wanted to.

"Do you find me attractive?" she asked in a small voice.

Puck snorted. "What kind of stupid question is that?"

"Just answer it," she whispered again, pressing her body closer to his.

"Woman, don't be dumb. You're sexy as hell and since you're drunk I'll admit that you're nearly fucking killing me right now with the way you're looking at me."

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and smiled softly. "I think you're sexy, too. I don't know why I've been trying to fight that. It's just fact. You're sexy," she reiterated.

_Truth._ "Thanks," he grinned, his eyes falling closed when her hands ran over the soft stubble of his shorn hair on the back of his head. "Berry, this isn't a good idea." If she didn't fucking _stop_ he was going to do something they'd both regret. Well, she _definitely_ would and he was thinking he _might. _She smiled again, all dark hair and eyes and bright white teeth and he was starting to lose it. This shit was _messed up_.

"I think it is," she purred. _She purred, goddammit!_ Then those full lips brushed against his own in a feather light, teasing kiss, the lust springing to life now. Rachel peered up at him again, a knowing smile in her eyes and on her lips the moment before she crushed her mouth to his.

He inhaled sharply and his hands came around her hips, pulling her flush against him as her tongue parted his lips and danced inside. He heard the moan low in her throat and he deepened the kiss, his nerves sparking like a live electrical wire. _You need to stop this, asshole. She's drunk. More, just a little bit more._ His hands came up to her face and he fisted his hands in that chestnut curtain, plundering her mouth until his brain screamed for oxygen. Pulling away, he unwrapped her arms from around his neck and stepped back, putting some _very necessary_ distance between them.

"Where are you going?" she asked, reaching for him.

"You're drunk, baby," he said gruffly, feeling the uncomfortable tightness in his jeans.

She giggled softly. "So?"

"Berry, you're on the verge of passing out…and _when_ we have sex, I want you to remember everything I do to you and the way I make you feel."

"I like the way I feel right now," she told him, brushing the hair out of her eyes.

_Of course she did. If it was half of what he felt right now she'd be ready to fuck on cloud goddamn nine._ "Go to sleep." She shook her head no. "Berry, come on," he practically begged. He walked back over to the bed and pulled back the covers for her. "In you go."

"Are you joining me?" she asked hopefully.

He nearly wanted to cry, if he did such pussy things. _Which he didn't_. She was offering herself up and he wanted to bang her _so fucking badly._ But, even though he was a total asshole about 99.99% of the time, he just couldn't take advantage of her like this. "No," he said grumpily.

"You're no fun," she yawned, crawling under the covers.

"Tell me about it," he muttered. He looked down at her hair fanned out on the pillow, her heavy eyes and slight smile and nearly threw all resolve out the mother fucking window. "Goodnight, Rachel."

Puck walked out of her bedroom and out the front door when he realized that he didn't have any way of locking her apartment. Once again his fucking conscience got to him and he knew he couldn't leave her in there with the door unlocked. _Son of a whore!_ He went back inside and plopped down on her large, comfortable couch, shifting one of the throw pillows behind his head.

His balls _detested_ the color blue.

* * *

Ringtone: _Big Poppa _by Notorious B.I.G. (Biggie Smalls...get it?)

Karaoke Song: _Tik Tok_ by Ke$ha

Reviews are always loved and appreciated. :)


	8. Blame it on the alcohol

**A/N:** Thank you, thank you, thank you for all of the wonderful reviews and new story alerts! You truly make my day. I'm pretty sure that I replied to all who left a signed review, but many thanks to those that leave unsigned reviews, too. :) I'm not 100% happy with this chapter, but hopefully you will still enjoy it. And still like me...

Lots of special thanks to dole out this time because I was _extra_ needy during this creative process. As always, Mandy is a rockstar! I'd also like to thank Rachel (GoingVintage) for being an awesome hometown hero and for letting me bounce ideas off her. Teri, thanks for your viking advice and assuring me it's okay to keep Puck's douchebaggery alive and well. Also to Jenna and Nicole for reading along the way. See, told you...NEEDY this time.

* * *

The next morning after Rachel stepped out of the shower, she felt human again, the last traces of her headache dissipating as she combed out the wet strands of her long dark hair. She gently patted the excess water from her skin and slathered her body with lotion, all the while trying to piece together the details of last night. She was a little foggy and didn't remember anything after doing tequila shots with Puck at _Wicked Willy's_. It still surprised her that she'd called him to help get her mind off things in the first place. But he hadn't judged her and he'd made her laugh. She figured that was all she'd really wanted, so mission accomplished.

While there was a lot she couldn't remember, she half wished she could forget the trail his tongue had licked on the inside of her wrist. The trail that still pulsed if she thought about the way his eyes had locked onto hers and smirked as he'd done so. "God," she murmured to her reflection in the foggy mirror. Alcohol was _bad_ news. She'd told him _way_ too many intimate details about herself last night and that was something she never would have done in ten million years if her tongue hadn't been loosened by the effects of liquid truth.

Something nagged at her brain though, like she was missing the final piece of the puzzle; but seeing as she'd awoken fully clothed and alone (thank God), all seemed right with the world. Still, she made a silent promise to herself to lay off the booze for a while…or at the very least not imbibe in the presence of the fireman.

She brushed her teeth and padded back into her adjoining bedroom to get dressed for the day. Looking around her room for the new things she bought yesterday, she remembered she'd dropped them by the front door in her haste to forget the Tyler bullshit. Hanging the towel on the hook behind the door, she walked into her living room. She was halfway to the front door when the screaming started.

* * *

Puck groaned and stretched his arms over head as he pushed through that hazy state between sleep and wakefulness. His eyes slowly blinked open and he frowned, trying to get his bearings. Then it all became crystal clear. He was in _Rachel's_ apartment because _Rachel _had gotten completely blitzkrieged the night before. And _Rachel_ had kissed him and then asked him to _stay. _And what had he done? He'd fucking turned her down. If his balls didn't still ache from the sexual frustration of it all, he'd have checked to see if he suddenly had a vagina between his legs. Puck sat up grumpily and scrubbed a hand over his face. He had to piss like a goddamn racehorse, so he pushed himself up off the couch and heard the blood curdling scream. Whirling around, he got an eyeful of a very shocked—and very, _very naked_—Rachel Berry.

"Oh my God, Puck!" Rachel screamed, clutching a hand to her chest to calm her pounding heart. She thought he was some sort of burglar rapist. "You scared the _shit_ out of me! What are you doing here?"

His jaw dropped, but he quickly recovered, slowly raking his eyes over her naked (_and wet!)_ body. "Take out the terrified screaming and this is _one helluva_ wakeup call, Berry," he said, his voice thick and groggy from sleep.

The realization that she was naked slammed into her like a freight train and she tried vainly to cover her body with her hands. Her cheeks flamed crimson and when he smirked at her she wanted to _die. _"Turn around!" she screeched, ducking behind the couch, looking for something, _anything_ to cover up with.

He chuckled. "And why would I do that? You're naked _and_ wet. That's a killer combo." Fuck, her legs really _did_ go on for miles…and her tits, well, _Jesus_.

_OhmyfuckingGod!_ She reached blindly up the back of the couch, groping for the throw that usually rested there, but didn't find it. Her heart was hammering so loudly in her ears, but it was dramatically overshadowed by her humiliation, which was threatening to actually _end_ her life right there on the floor. She could hear him chuckling and she wanted to _hurt_ him. Badly. "Stop laughing at me, asshole! What the hell are you even doing in my apartment?" A sick feeling crept into her stomach as she wondered again about the missing puzzle piece. But that was shoved aside so she could handle her current predicament. She spied the shopping bags by the door and scooted her body across the floor, one hand trying to cover her breasts (and hold on to her remaining last _tiny_ shred of dignity). If she could just grab the bag, she could cover herself with that and make it back to her bedroom.

"I had to carry you up here last night because you drank too goddamn much and couldn't walk."

"Well, thank you," she spat, "but that doesn't explain why you're still here."

"What are you doing?" he asked humorously, skirting around the couch to stand in front of her, his arms folded over his chest.

Rachel squeaked and tried to cover the important parts with arms and hands. "If you don't hand me something to cover myself in the next ten seconds, I will punch you in the face," she bit out through clenched teeth, making him laugh.

"I think I'd like to see you try, _Smalls_," he sneered. "Oh, just get up. I've already gotten a good look at that hot little body of yours. There's no undoing that up here," he told her, pointing to his head.

"You are a filthy swine of a man," she seethed.

"Oink, oink, baby," he drawled, grinning down at her.

"Dammit, Puck, I thought we were kind of friends now," she whined, in spite of herself.

He scratched his jaw and smirked. "Well, sure we are, Berry. But I think we're the kind of friends who want to see each other naked. I know _I'm_ enjoying it so far." He paused for a beat. "I can show you mine if you want."

"You're abhorrent! And also outrageously off base. I have _no_ interest in seeing you naked." His response was a slow, wicked grin that was entirely unnerving. This was so absurd. She had no dignity left whatsoever and he had already seen her. _Just get up and run into your room, Rachel. You can die alone there._ "Okay, seriously, what's with the look? I know that this scenario is typically limited to fictional characters on sitcoms, but can you cut me some slack please? You're really bordering on sexual harassment!"

Puck snorted out a dry laugh and extended a hand to help her up. She eyed him warily and he could practically see the wheels turning in her head like _how do I do this without showing him my goodies? Again._ After staring at his hand for a good fifteen seconds, she finally took it and he pulled her up off the floor, chuckling at her very weak attempts to maintain modesty.

Rachel cast a quick glance over her shoulder and spotted a blanket at the end of the couch. She shuffled down a few steps, very aware of Puck's extreme delight over the whole situation, and tried to decide how best to grab the blanket and cover up. "_Turn around!_" she hissed, stomping her foot.

With a big roll of his eyes, he grudgingly covered them with his hand. And if you think he caught a peek while she was grabbing for the blanket, you are absolutely correct. _Goddamn her ass is amazing!_

She wrapped the blanket tightly around her, making sure all parts that needed to be covered were indeed covered. "Okay," she muttered, smoothing a hand over her wet hair as if that simple gesture would restore every ounce of self-respect she'd lost since she stepped foot into the living room.

Puck dropped his hand to his side and his lips twitched as he slowly gave her the once over again. "You can cover it up, Berry, but now I know what you're hiding under there. Might keep me up at night."

She refused to let him get under her skin. "Well, I'm sure you'll forget all about me the next time you've got a random skank writhing beneath you. Time for you to go now." She walked over and grabbed his coat, tossing it at him.

"Wouldn't you rather be the one writhing beneath me, Berry?"

"Not even a little," she insisted.

"Hmm…" He shrugged into his coat. "That's funny, because that's not what you were saying last night when you _kissed_ me."

If he'd smacked her across the face she wouldn't have been more stunned than she was right then. The missing piece of the puzzle had just been identified and she felt like projectile vomiting. Arming him with this type of ammunition was an epic failure on her behalf. "I don't believe you," she said firmly, jutting out her chin.

God, the look on her face was utterly priceless. If only he could snap a picture. "Suit yourself," he shrugged. "But, I'm not lyin', Berry. You," he began, taking a step closer, "kissed me," another step, "and asked me to stay. Call me crazy, but I don't think you had Parcheesi in mind, either," he added simply, looming over her tiny frame and staring down at that gorgeous face of hers while she glared up at him. He was close enough to kiss her if he wanted to. He smirked instead.

Her eyes narrowed at the self-satisfied look on his face. He was _unbelievable_! Her embarrassment dissipated and was replaced with anger. "Well, I can assure you that it was just the alcohol talking. That will never happen again."

Puck raised a brow, his grin taking on a wicked edge. "Now, I don't believe that for a minute."

"You know what, Puck?" she clipped. "I don't really give one good damn what you believe or think."

"Berry, chill the fuck out. It was just a kiss," he said gruffly, reaching out and brushing the pad of his thumb gently over her lip. "Though it was a _damn good one_. Makes me wonder what else you can do with that mouth of yours."

She slapped his hand away and shoved at the muscled wall of his chest to put some much needed distance between them. "God! You are repugnant and _sleazy_! Get the hell out of my home this minute," she yelled. She stalked towards the door and jerked it open. "Why don't you stop and get your Valtrex refilled on the way home and find some brainless harlot that doesn't mind listening to the garbage that comes out of your mouth. I've reached my quota for the next two centuries." Her blood was raging so wildly within her that she very nearly could see the red in her eyes.

He laughed at her and realized that was probably the wrong thing to do when she stomped her foot and her eyes went wide and scary. She was so angry that she was actually _vibrating._ "Look—"

"Get out! _Now!_" she screeched, her voice notching up about a million decibels.

Puck walked past her and paused in the doorway, unable to resist getting another dig in. "You know, Smalls, if you want to take your anger out on me I could think of a much better outlet than shouting. Though I guess there'd probably be shouting involved then, too. Mostly my name."

"You just don't give up do you?" she asked shoving him out into the hall. She opened up the blanket revealing all of her naked glory to him. His jaw dropped. "Well, Noah Puckerman, take a _good_ _long_ look because this is _the last_ time you'll ever see this naked body again. Fuck. Off." She slammed the door in his face.

He stood, stunned, outside her closed door, the image of her firmly emblazoned into his brain as the blood rushed south. It took him a moment to snap out of the shock she'd sent him into. Turning, he started down the stairs and realized he didn't have his goddamn shoes on. _Fuck._ He lifted a fist to pound on the door when it opened up and she chucked his shoes at his head. Lucky for his face she had terrible aim. "Goddamn, Berry!" he laughed. When she flipped him off he nearly pissed his pants from laughing. "See ya at Quinn's birthday party," he reminded her. "Maybe we can pick up where we left off," he said, wagging his eyebrows.

"You're uninvited!" she yelled, slamming the door in his face once more.

Fuck, it was fun to mess with her, he thought, bounding down the stairs. He pulled out his cell phone and sent her a text.

* * *

Rachel was lying on her bed, staring at her ceiling, wondering what entity had possessed her a few minutes ago and made her go completely_ bat shit crazy._ God, it was bad enough that he'd accidentally seen her naked, but then she'd gone and showed him again during her hissy fit.

_Well they call me the fireman, that's my name  
Making my rounds all over town, putting out old flames  
Well everybody'd like to have a what I got  
I can cool 'em down when they're smold'ring hot  
I'm the fireman, that's my name_

"Can't he just stop torturing me?" she groaned, hearing Puck's ringtone on her cell. She fumbled for her phone and saw that he'd sent her a text.

_Puck: Don't 4get ur future per4mance w/FE_

Her face fell into a frown. What the hell was he talking about? She had a bad feeling it was another missing piece to the puzzle. But whatever it was couldn't possibly be any more humiliating than what she'd already been through today.

She replied with a succinct _'?'. _

_Puck: Check ur bag_

Rachel huffed out a breath and rooted through her bag, pulling out the newspaper article that she remembered him defacing. Looking at it through sober eyes was every bit as funny as the night before, though she cringed seeing at some of the things she'd told him about Tyler. Tossing that aside, she found a bar napkin with a bunch of stick figures and scribbles of a tambourine, fire extinguisher, what she thought was a microphone, some musical notes and a star. "Alcohol is _truly_ the devil," she murmured.

_Rachel: This is gibberish_

_Puck: UR singing w/my band 1 night. Practice on Wed._

_Rachel: No_

_Puck: Quit getting ur panties in a twist over everything…oh, wait. UR not wearing any!!!_

_Rachel: Eat a bag of hell and die!_

_Puck: LOL! I enjoy ur wit and tits alike, Berry!_

She wanted to break his stupid face.

Instead, she called up Quinn. She'd stupidly avoided her yesterday and if she hadn't done so, she wouldn't be in the mess she was in now.

"Well, well, look who it is," Quinn greeted shortly. "Glad to see you still know how to get a hold of the person you supposedly consider your best friend."

Rachel winced. Quinn's worry had turned into annoyance and Rachel knew that was because she'd hurt her friend's feelings by not talking to her yesterday when the article came out. "I'm sorry I didn't take any of your calls last night."

"Hmph," she sniffed.

"Can you please come over?" Rachel asked, her throat suddenly grew tight and she thought she might very well be on the verge of a mental breakdown.

"Are you okay?" Quinn asked, concern flooding her voice.

"No," Rachel cried dramatically. "Things are seriously crazy and bad and I did something _so stupid_! Stupid, stupid stupid!"

"On my way," she said and the line went dead.

* * *

"…and then I slammed the door in his face."

Quinn's jaw hung open as she sat blinking owlishly at Rachel. A little squeak of shock was the only sound she'd made in the last thirty seconds. Rachel squirmed uneasily waiting for her best friend to say_ something _for the love of God. She braced herself for an oncoming lecture, or maybe to be swept hurriedly out of the apartment to the nearest nuthouse to be fitted for a straightjacket. (It was a mental breakdown. She was _sure_.) What she hadn't expected was the hearty outburst of hysterical laughter.

"Oh…my…God…Rachel!" Quinn's laughter turned to cackling and continued until she was on the ground and sound was no longer coming out of her mouth. She was—_wheezing_—like a ninety year old asthmatic with emphysema.

"Quinn! It's not funny!" Rachel scolded, which only made her blonde friend laugh even harder. Huffing out an exasperated breath, she flopped back against the couch and covered her head with a pillow, hoping to just snuff the life out of herself. It smelled like his cologne and she tossed it across the room like a hot potato, knocking over a DVD rack.

After what felt like an eternity, her best friend began to regain her composure and sat up, wiping the tears away from her eyes. "Jesus, Rach…thanks for the laugh. I think my abs have gotten enough of a workout today now that I can skip the gym."

"Har dee har har," Rachel pouted.

"I just have one question for you though," Quinn said, putting on her serious face.

Rachel eyed her suspiciously. "Yes?"

"Why in the hell aren't you having sex with him right now?"

It was Rachel's turn to be speechless. And speechless she was as she stared at Quinn like she'd just sprouted another head. "I—I—_what_? Quinn, did you not hear a single word I said? Puck is an _asshole of biblical proportions_!"

"But one that is hot as balls and one that youuu kissssed!" she trilled in a sing-song voice.

Grabbing another pillow off the couch, she lobbed it at Quinn's head. "I was drunk! I wasn't in my right mind."

"And you were in your right mind when you flashed him your business stone sober? He gets you _so _worked up, Rachel. I've never seen anyone get under your skin the way he does."

"Whatever," she mumbled, wanting to put the whole _incident_ behind her. "I wish I'd called you last night."

"Sorry, love, I'm already seeing someone," Quinn winked, smiling at her friend's annoyed expression. She reached for the newspaper and the napkin on the coffee table and looked them over again. "That is so fun that you're going to sing with the band one night."

"I'm not," Rachel vehemently said, getting up off the sofa to set the DVD rack to rights.

"Yes, you are," Quinn said matter-of-factly, not looking up from the napkin as she tried to decode the drawings.

"No, I'm not! Quinn!" Rachel stomped her foot. (She was going for a personal record today)

"Rachel! It's my birthday wish. You always give me one, and that's it. Oh, damn, I should've said that it was for you and Puck to screw yourselves into oblivion. Can I change—?"

"I'll sing!" Rachel agreed quickly. "I'll sing with them."

Quinn rubbed her hands together excitedly. "Excellent! Now, let's talk about my birthday party."

* * *

The next time Puck saw her again she was in the middle of the dance floor with Quinn and Kurt dancing and singing to _Baby Got Back_. Her dress, if that could even be counted as one, was black and strapless and _indecently _short. He fucking loved it. God what he wouldn't give to—

"Puck!" Finn called, snapping his fingers in front of his face.

"Huh?" Puck asked, dazed.

"Here's your beer. And a napkin for the drool," Finn teased.

Puck rolled his eyes and sneered. "Shut the fuck up, dude. We've been over this."

Finn smiled crookedly over his drink at his poor, clueless friend. "I think you actually like her. I know I do because she wants nothing to do with your bullshit."

"Some friend you are, asshole," Puck tossed back acerbically. He sipped his beer and went back to watching Rachel dance. _Christ, she could move. _

"Quinn's motioning me over, I'm going to go dance," Finn said.

Puck snorted. "Have fun with that, white boy."

Finn's face scrunched up in confusion. "What? We're both white."

"I meant that you've got no rhythm, dude," Puck laughed. "Hopefully you're better in bed than you are on the dance floor or else you're not going to keep that hot girlfriend of yours around very long."

"You can be such a prick sometimes, Puck," Finn grumbled and walked away.

Great. Now he'd gone and pissed his best friend off. He was only kidding. _Mostly._ Finn _was _a shitty dancer—it was like common knowledge. He seemed to be pissing everyone off this week. Whatever. Fuck 'em if they couldn't take a joke. Seeing the rest of the group out there laughing and having fun, he decided to go and ruffle his favorite set of feathers. He was halfway out on to the dance floor when he saw her heading in the direction of the bar, and he changed course.

* * *

Quinn Fabray loved her birthday. _Loved it._ Even though she didn't love the number of candles on her cake now that she was no longer considered _mid-twenties_, she adored having her friends lavish her with attention and being Queen for a Day. (Okay, the week. She _loved_ her birthday.) This year was no exception. She was surrounded, as always, by her two best friends, and this year, her cute _boyfriend_. (She loved being able to call him that now.)

As was tradition every year on her birthday since they moved to New York, they dressed to the nines and danced the night away. The tunes were old school, Rachel's dress was guaranteed to make Puck swallow his tongue, and Kurt's Spanish was starting to kick in. And when she felt Finn wrap his strong arms around her waist and drop a kiss to her shoulder, she thought that this was shaping up to be a birthday she'd never forget.

* * *

Rachel fanned her face as she got in the crowded line around the bar. She needed another drink and it was time for the birthday girl to do another shot. When he swaggered up next to her she couldn't stop the eye roll.

"'Sup, Berry?" he greeted smoothly, a half smile quirking over his lips.

She kept her eyes trained forward. "Puck," she said flatly, cursing the absence of fabric on her dress and the heat of his eyes as they raked over her.

"Lookin' good on the dance floor. Though you look even better up close."

"Go be creepy somewhere else," she spat.

"Got your panties in a twist tonight, Smalls?"

She ignored him, moving forward as the line shifted closer to the bar.

Puck frowned, not really appreciating the silent treatment. "Hey," he said, putting his hand on her shoulder.

"What?" she asked heatedly. She shrugged off his hand, finally meeting his gaze.

"God, are you still pissed about the other day? Get over it, Berry. It was funny." He didn't get what the big damn deal was. They were both adults and they were both clearly attracted to each other.

"Is this guy bothering you?" a deep voice asked.

Puck turned, ready to tell the guy to mind his own fucking business and scowled when Rachel's face lit up like goddamn _fireworks_ and launched herself into the blonde douchebag's arms.

"Ben! Oh my God!" Rachel squealed as he lifted her off the ground and spun her.

She _giggled_ and flashed the brightest smile he'd ever seen when that _fuckstick_ sat her back down on her feet. Puck's scowl grew deeper.

"Hey Gorgeous," Ben grinned, deep dimples flashing along with his brilliant smile.

Puck fought off the eye roll. _Original nickname, asshole. _

Rachel stared up into the crystal blue eyes of Ben Prindle. If there ever was anyone that could be considered an Adonis, it was this gorgeous man before her. "Ben Prindle," she smiled. "Long time no see."

_Ben Prindle. Ben Prindle. Why did that name sound familiar? Oh. Now he remembered. Well, fuck!_

"Rachel Berry—look at you." He gave her a slow once over and a sly grin stretched easily over his face.

Puck watched interestedly, waiting for her to light into _Ben_ the way she always did him when he gave her that look. He felt the frown when it didn't happen. Instead, she slapped his shoulder, giggled, and said:

"You're an incorrigible flirt, Ben. Some things never change." She tossed her hair over her shoulder and grinned up at Ben.

"Who are you here with?" he asked, leaning in to be heard over the music.

"It's Quinn's birthday. We're all over there," she said, pointing towards their table. "She'd love to see you."

"Great, let me buy you ladies a drink."

"Don't sweat it, dude, I got this one," Puck informed him. Both Rachel and Ben turned to finally acknowledge his presence. Rachel's lips thinned into a tight line whereas Ben smirked in amusement. That prick was about to get his face rearranged.

"Sorry, Rach. Are you two—" Ben began, gesturing between the two.

"No," Rachel quickly scoffed. "Absolutely not."

The muscles in Puck's jaw twitched. Seriously? _Fuck this_. And fuck her for that matter. He really didn't know why he was bothering in the first place. What he should be doing is what he did best…finding some easy girl that would be _more_ than thrilled to wrap her legs around him and keep him company for a night. Quick and dirty and with far less bitching and fighting than he had to put up with the brunette in front of him. "See ya, Berry," he bit out gruffly and walked away, leaving her smiling with the walking Abercrombie ad who, according to Rachel herself, was apparently good at plumbing her pipes. Fucking prick.

Rachel frowned at his retreating form, feeling momentarily guilty for being so rude to him, but brushed it aside. Instead, she focused on her old friend as he put a hand on the small of her back and guided her towards the bar.

* * *

Later in the evening, Rachel and her two drunk best friends went into the ladies' room. Girls started squealing at first due to Kurt's presence.

"Relax, I'm a lady," Kurt insisted, pushing his way to the mirrors to check his appearance.

Quinn leaned against the wall while she and Rachel waited for a stall. There were grunts and moans coming from the stall on the end. Rachel and Quinn exchanged glances and snorted out a laugh. "That's disgusting," Quinn giggled.

"Seriously," Rachel agreed, just as the girl in the stall reached her peak and shouted out a string of _oh Gods_ peppered with obscenities. _Classy._

The stall opened and the red head, who looked appropriately _rode hard and put away wet_, emerged, tugging down her dress that made Rachel's seem prudish. Quinn nudged Rachel and the two shook their heads in disgust.

Their revulsion grew when Puck strolled out behind her with a self-satisfied smirk on his face. His eyes met Rachel's and if she didn't know better, she would have sworn she saw that smugness falter momentarily.

"Ladies," he nodded as he strode past them and swaggered out the door.

"What a fucking douche!" Quinn said, completely flummoxed.

Rachel just shrugged, really not at all surprised.

"Sweetie," Quinn slurred, "I'm so sorry for trying to push you two together. I'm such a bad, bad friend!" She stroked Rachel's hair.

She smiled and patted Quinn's shoulder. "You're not a bad friend, Fabs. And don't worry about me. I'm fine. I promise."

Kurt hurried over, mouth agape, eyes wide. "Was that Puck?"

Rachel nodded.

"_Bastardo!"_ he exclaimed, cutting in front of Quinn and Rachel for the available toilet.

"You know what you should do? You should go right back out there and hook up with Ben. I know you used to enjoy doing that," Quinn said. "And he is _hot hot hot_!"

"I don't need to hook up with someone just because Puck is skeevy and likes to bang skanks in bar bathrooms. I'm just glad you realize what I've been telling you all along about him. Let's just leave it alone, okay. It's your _birthday_!" she reminded her friend, knowing that would get her mind back on having fun.

"Yay! Birthday!" Quinn clapped.

* * *

The rest of the night she spent with the group (and Ben) dancing and laughing and forgetting about Puck entirely. (Mostly.) When Ben smoothed her hair out of her face and smiled down at her with that slow, roguish grin, she felt the warmth stir in her belly. And when he murmured in her ear and asked if they could get together sometime, she smiled back and said she'd like that. (And meant it.) Then, at the end of the night, when he leaned in and captured her lips in a kiss that used to make her weak in the knees, she went with it, tried to pour herself into it.

And felt nothing at all.

It would have been so much easier if she had.

* * *

As always, reviews are lovely and they feed the muse.

Rachel's Ringtone: "The Fireman" by George Strait

If you're wondering what Rachel was wearing, well, I was inspired by Lea Michele's dress the _New Moon_ premiere.

And if you'd like to know what hottie Ben Prindle looks like, do yourself a favor and google Trevor Donovan, who plays Teddy on 90210. Yowsa!


	9. Hey, Mr Tambourine Man

**A/N:** A million thanks for all of the reviews. I am still baffled by them, but they make my day. Seriously. Thank you.

I hope that you enjoy this chapter. Things are starting to change a little between our favorite characters.

A special thanks as always to Mandy for being awesomesauce. Lots of people looked at this along the way, you know who you are, and I thank you. :)

I own nothing.

* * *

"I really love your band. My girlfriends and I have seen you a couple of times. It's definitely a fun experience," smiled Rebekah Nelson, the pretty thirty-something blonde currently sitting across the table at _Starbucks_ from Puck and Finn. Both guys smiled appreciatively. "But…even though we're scrambling at the last minute to find a replacement band for our reunion, the committee _really_ wants a band that has both a male and female lead singer." She rolled her green eyes and set her pink lips into a pout. "God forbid we miss out on any girl songs from the 80's," she clipped sarcastically. "If it were just up to me I'd book you for the gig right on the spot." She lifted her coffee cup to her mouth and sipped thoughtfully, the enormous diamond on her wedding band sparkling in the light. "I don't suppose you know of anyone that can join your band for the night?" she asked hopefully.

Puck slanted a look over towards Finn, who was shaking his head and giving him a look that clearly said _don't do it, asshole_. Not being one to listen to Finn's advice much over the years, Puck ignored him and looked back to Rebekah, whose high school reunion committee was prepared to pay the _Fire Extinguishers_ a pretty sizeable sum to entertain the Class of '89 for a night. Hey, these were lean economic times and they worked for the city…he wasn't about to turn down money to buy a new guitar or whatever the fuck else he felt like with his share just because Finn Hudson said so. With a wily grin, he opened his mouth and said, "Beks, we've got the perfect girl for you. Killer pipes. You'll love her."

"Fantastic!" she beamed, sliding over the paperwork and a check for the deposit.

* * *

Puck nodded and smirked at Rebekah as she gave him _the look_ on her way out of _Starbucks_ that told him there might be a little _something extra _coming his way after the show. (He'd hit it.) He felt Finn's massive fist punch him hard on the shoulder. "The fuck was that for?" Puck grumbled, rubbing a hand over it.

"For not having any goddamn sense," Finn tossed back.

"Uh, correct me if I'm wrong, which you won't because we both know I'm the brains of this operation, did I or did I not just score us a well-paying gig because of my quick thinking?"

"And people call me stupid," Finn muttered into his hot chocolate. He took a sip of his drink and fixed Puck with a pointed look. "What girl do you plan on having join our band for the night?" Finn asked, already knowing the answer, but wanting to hear his idiot friend's plan aloud.

"Who the hell do you think, Einstein? _Berry_."

"Why would she even want to, Puck? Last I heard you weren't exactly top of her list of favorite people."

"We have a deal," Puck shrugged, though he knew that that deal was probably beyond null and void now.

"You _had_ a deal, and then you fucked up by being an asshole. Guessing she probably won't be rushing to help you out any time soon."

"Why am I to blame for everything? She needs to learn to take a joke. She was the one parading around naked in her apartment. It's not my fault that I was there and have working eyes. Nor is it my fault that she's hot for me and can't admit it. Her issues, bro, not mine."

"It's amazing that she's not throwing herself at your feet right now," Finn drawled sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "If you're going to ask her to do this, you might want to work on your pitch a little more."

Puck frowned, not really enjoying the way the truth sounded coming from Finn's mouth. "You could ask her," he suggested cowardly.

Finn laughed mockingly. "Not gonna happen. This is your mess, you clean it up."

He scowled now, hating that Finn was right. He couldn't believe he was about to do what he was about to do, but he opened his mouth and the words poured out. "How do I do that?" he mumbled.

Rising to his feet, Finn grinned down at his clueless friend and clapped him on the back. "You're the brains of this operation, Puck," he told him dryly. "I'm sure you'll figure it out."

_Dammit._

* * *

Puck stood outside 5A, staring at the gold plated door marker and wondering what the fuck he was hesitating for. It was just Berry and it was just a simple _apology_. He was awesome. He was badass. He was _Puck_. This really should be no big deal. He heard her laughing inside the apartment and smiled. At least she was in a good mood. Lifting a fisted hand, he rapped loudly on the door.

When the door swung open, he was leaned casually against the jamb, his trademark smirk fixed on his lips. "Hey, Berry," he greeted smoothly, taking in her casual appearance (sweats and a ponytail were sexy…who knew?) as the smile fell away from her face.

"Puck," Rachel replied, completely flabbergasted to see him standing there. "What are you doing here?" she asked, remembering the last time he was in her doorway and fighting the urge to fidget.

"Got a proposition for you—can I come in?" He saw her hesitate and look over her shoulder. Perhaps she was thinking about the last time they were here together. Thoughts of her naked were never far from his mind. Then the blond douche otherwise known as Ben walked out of the kitchen.

"Hey, Rach, is that our pizza?"

"Sorry to disappoint," Puck drawled lazily, still leaning against the doorframe, shifting his eyes to Rachel, who looked awkwardly back and forth between the two men. "Can I have a minute?" he asked, one eyebrow arched.

Rachel was curious. She had no clue what he wanted, but she knew that it would bug her too much to not find out. So she shrugged carelessly and said, "I guess." She looked questioningly back to Ben who was slipping into his coat.

"You're out of beer. I'll run out and get us some," he said with a slight smile on his chiseled face. "Be back in ten."

Puck moved out of the doorway and let the guy who was apparently once again fucking Rachel Berry brush by him as they sized each other up. _Douche_. She gestured for him to come inside and folded her arms across her chest.

"What do you want, Puck?" she inquired.

"Here, I brought this for you," he said gruffly, holding the paper sack in his outstretched hand.

She stared skeptically at him for a moment before taking the bag. "What's this?"

"A bribe…it's your favorite if memory serves."

Unfolding the top of the bag, she opened it and the mouthwatering scent of pastrami on rye floated into her nose. "You brought me a sandwich?" she asked, resisting the urge to smile. He didn't get off that easily. She lifted her cool eyes to his. "And why exactly are you bribing me?"

"So you'll sing with the band in two weeks," he said easily, offering a crooked smile.

"No," she shook her head, folding the top of the bag over again.

"Why not?" he grumbled, shoving a hand into the pocket of his jeans.

"Because you can't just show up here, throw a sandwich at me and expect things to be fine," she said evenly, setting the bag down on the little table by the door.

He'd known it wouldn't be that easy. He'd hoped, but no dice. "I'm sorry, okay," he bit out quickly, shrugging a shoulder nearly up to his chin.

Rachel's lips twitched down into a frown and she shook her head again. "For what?" She was pretty sure he didn't have a _clue_.

Puck's mood was rapidly souring. He _hated_ this shit. Being put on the spot…apologizing…it made him uncomfortable and twitchy. "Oh, come on, Smalls—you know why I'm sorry."

"This is the worst apology I've ever heard in my life," she said with a pinched expression. "And I'd prefer it if you didn't call me that anymore."

"What, so we're not friends now?" he snapped. He found that the idea really bothered him. He was getting used to her being around.

"We weren't friends to begin with." She felt her throat go dry.

"Rachel, come on," Puck said, aggravated. "That's not true."

Her name on his lips made her pause. She wasn't sure he'd ever used it. Maybe once, but she honestly couldn't remember him ever calling her anything other than _Berry _or _Smalls_. Rachel shrugged her shoulders. It was a gesture she didn't really care for and one that she used far too often in his presence.

Her silence was unnerving as hell seeing as she normally never shut up. "Look—I guess I was out of line the other day, but the whole thing was just funny, okay? I don't get why you were so bent out of shape. I was the one that helped you out and crashed on your couch so no psycho would come in and attack you. Then I wake up and you're all buck ass naked and screaming. And can you really blame my brain for going retarded when you're standing naked in front of me? You may not like hearing it, but you're hot, Rachel. Hot chicks tend to make guys do dumb shit."

Rachel tried to fight the smile, but wasn't very successful. "My statement stands—you really suck at apologizing," she laughed dryly.

Puck felt the grin stretch slowly across his face. "Does this mean you'll sing with the band?"

"I believe all I said was that you're no good at apologizing." She brushed a stray lock of hair out of her eyes.

"We need your pipes, Smalls. Come on," he said with a little smirk. When she arched a sculpted brow he sighed. "Please?" he muttered. She didn't relent, so he went with the truth. "I kinda already booked the gig on the basis that you'd do it."

"Puck!" Rachel snapped. "Why on earth would you do that?"

"'Cause the money was good and I thought I'd get you to agree," he answered honestly.

"You're unbelievable," she told him, throwing up her hands in exasperation.

"Will you please do this?" She'd crossed her arms again and leveled him with a heated look. "For me?" he added cheekily.

Rachel scoffed and shook her head at him like he'd really lost his fucking mind.

"Then will you do it for Finn?" Her eyes softened. _Bingo._

She paused, considering the sweet guy who was the boyfriend of her best friend. He'd probably not gone along with this asinine plan. _Finn_ would have done the decent thing and actually _asked_ first. But no, not Puck. _Puck _was an asshole. A very charming and sexy asshole, but still…

"What's the gig and when is it?" she asked hesitantly. He smirked and she held up a hand to stop him. "I didn't say yes—I'm merely gathering information."

"It's a high school reunion. Class of '89, baby!" he said comically. "And it's next Saturday."

"Puck, I have two shows on Saturday!" she huffed.

He ran a hand over his hair. "You could still do one of them," he said sheepishly.

"Goddammit, Puck!" She started pacing around the tiny entryway as her mind whirled over this mess he'd pulled her into. Actually, it was still his mess. She hadn't agreed to anything. Her name wasn't signed anywhere. Though she did have days off that she could utilize if she _wanted_. Her understudy was champing at the bit to get a chance to perform even once. But it was a Saturday night show. _Damn him. _

"Come on, Rachel—you don't want to disappoint the class of '89 do you? All of those people in their late 30s wanting to get drunk and relive their glory days. It should be kind of awesome and sad and hilarious all rolled into one."

Perhaps she should insist he only use her nicknames from now on because the sound of her first name coming from his mouth had her doing _stupid_ things like opening up her own mouth and saying, (albeit through clenched teeth) "Fine."

Puck's smile was slow and wicked.

"Just so you know I'm only doing this for Finn," she insistently told him. "I'm sure _he_ had nothing to do with this and I don't think my friend's boyfriend should be punished because you're a presumptuous _asshat_."

He shrugged and chuckled. "I'll take it, Smalls." He extended his hand. "Shake on it?"

She stared at his hand and then lifted shrewd eyes. "I want a cut of the money."

"Alright, 's fair." He smirked and grabbed for her hand, shaking it. (And sue him if he held on longer than was polite.)

"Okay," she said, jerking her hand free. "You got what you came for—you can go now!"

"Oh, Berry," he grinned impishly, "I—" He was cut off by her putting a hand over his mouth.

"Don't press your luck, pal," Rachel warned, reaching past him to open the door. He remained rooted to the floor and she nodded towards the hallway.

Puck laughed dryly and turned to leave. "We're having practice on Wednesday. I'll text you the address." He opened his ratty backpack and pulled out a stack of music and handed it to her. "Some songs in our set list and some I thought might be a good fit for you. I'm open to suggestions though."

Rachel snatched the stack from his hand. "Thanks," she clipped, shoving him out into the hallway. _Did I really just agree to do this?_

"One more thing," he smirked, reaching into his bag again, producing a pink tambourine. "For you," he said, shaking it playfully.

She stared at the instrument in his hand, completely flummoxed. "You got me a tambourine?" she asked softly, the corners of her lips turning upward. Taking it from him, she looked questioningly into his eyes. (They were light brown and mischievous today. Whatever, she noticed things.)

Puck shot her a grin, happy that he'd rendered her speechless. (And the soft, pretty smile was kinda rad, too.) "I remembered our contract," he murmured. He heard heavy footsteps on the stairs and saw Ben approaching. _Oh yeah…him. _He fought the urge to frown. "Guess I'll see ya Wednesday, Berry." He gave the fuckwad a withering look and tromped down the stairs.

Ben watched Puck go down the stairs and then smiled at the expression on Rachel's face. "I know that look, Rach," he teased, strolling through the door, closing it behind him.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, gazing down at her new tambourine, smiling as it jingled. She set it down on the table next to the sandwich she'd forgotten about.

"You like him. And it's worse than I initially thought when I walked up." He headed for the kitchen to put the beer down on the counter.

Rachel frowned at his retreating form and followed him. "I do not like that cretin!" she denied vehemently.

Ben chuckled as he popped the tops off two beers, handed her one. "Do you hear yourself, Gorgeous?"

"He's an asshole!" she cried, lifting the bottle to her lips.

"Maybe, maybe not," Ben shrugged, trying to sympathize with his friend's plight. He found it amusing instead.

"I wish you and I liked each other as more than friends," she pouted. "We get along so well and we used to have really amazing sex."

He grinned down at her. "All true, Rachel, but things have changed. Though I'm not opposed to giving the sex another try," he said, wagging his eyebrows.

She set her bottle down on the counter. "Kiss me—let's see if it's different."

He shook his head and laughed, knowing it wouldn't be. "Alright, I'll play." Setting his beer down next to hers, he stepped closer and cupped her face with his wide hands. Dropping his head, he covered her lips with his.

Rachel leaned in to the kiss, his lips warm and soft against hers. She thought that _maybe…_

Ben pulled away first and smiled down at her. "Sorry, Rachel. I felt nothin'."

She sighed and nodded her head in agreement. "Me neither. Sure would be easier if we did."

"I know…but, I can't compete with tambourines and douchebaggery, baby," he chuckled, ruffling her hair when her face fell into a scowl.

_She wasn't sure she could either. God help her._

* * *

Wednesday arrived, and with it came band rehearsal with _Fire Extinguishers_. As promised, Puck had sent her a text with the address the night before. She had just slipped into bed, exhausted from rehearsals and the show that night, looking forward to blissful sleep when her cell phone came to life with his ringtone. Flipping open her phone, she read the text, surprised by his brevity. She'd expected something _Puckish_, but figured that maybe he thought it best to not push her since he was already on shaky ground. Just as she'd found the cool, comfy spot on the pillow, her phone rang again; he called that time. And because she was too tired (and maybe a bit too cowardly) she let it go straight to voicemail.

"_Sup, Berry. Just wanted to say that I'm looking forward to giving you the full Puckerone experience at rehearsal tomorrow. Can't wait to hear you hit the high notes as you bang it out…on the tambourine. Get that mind of yours out of the gutter. Naughty dreams, Smalls."_

She blamed her busy day yesterday on the fact that she was still sleepy today. It had nothing to do with his voicemail (that she may or may not have listened to more than once) and that deep, sexy voice in her head right before bedtime. _Nothing at all_. And the _dirty, obscene_ dreams that she had last night were absolutely, unequivocally _not_ about him. She was adamant that she'd been yelling out _fuck_ repeatedly in the dream because that's exactly what the tall, dark haired man had done (_expertly and repeatedly_) to her. And this morning, as she took to ridding herself of that deep, primal ache between her legs, his face and sweaty, half naked body _never once_ entered her mind. His name most _certainly_ did not tear from her lips as she hit her peak.

She also decided, as she pulled open the door to the rehearsal space, that, for an actress, she was a pretty terrible liar.

Glancing around the large, open room, she spied Finn setting up his drums and the other two (Mike and Matt?) getting out their instruments (guitar and bass respectively) as well. There was no sign of Puck, which simultaneously calmed and unnerved her. He wasn't here now, which means she didn't have to be subjected to his filthy comments right away. On the other hand, he would eventually show up and the inevitable embarrassment she was sure to feel seeing him after the thoughts she'd had was almost enough to have her running for the door. She absolutely couldn't fuel that fire. She'd already gotten drunk and kissed him, which was bad enough, but if he ever knew that he'd been on her mind as she…

"Hey, Rach!" Finn called in greeting.

She focused her attention and smiled brightly at him. "Hi, Finn," she said, walking over towards the group.

"Mike, Matt, this is Rachel, Rachel, Matt and Mike," he casually made the introductions.

Rachel gave them both a friendly smile and shook their hands. "Nice to meet both of you officially."

"Thanks a lot for bailing us out, Rachel," Finn said in a grateful tone. "I'm really sorry that he roped you into this."

"Yeah, Puck's kind of a doucheasaurus rex sometimes," Mike laughed, tightening the strings on his electric guitar.

She giggled at the term. "No problem. I wouldn't tell him so, but I'm actually looking forward to it. This gives me a chance to sing something different for a change." Unwrapping her scarf from around her neck and removing her hat and coat, she tossed them over the back of a chair. Not wanting to sit around and twiddle her thumbs until Puck graced them with his presence, she said, "Do you boys want to wait or should we go ahead and get started?"

The three exchanged amused glances and shrugged. "Let's see what you've got," Matt smirked, strapping on his bass.

* * *

Puck jerked opened the door, running late (as usual) to rehearsal and could hear that they'd started without him. Finn pounded away on the drums and Mike was getting really into some Joan Jett and the Blackhearts on the guitar. His eyes instantly gravitated towards the gorgeous brunette shimmying slightly to the beat and gripping the microphone. She opened her mouth and the gritty rock lyrics poured out.

_We've been here too long  
Tryin' to get along  
Pretendin' that you're oh so shy  
I'm a natural ma'am  
Doin' all I can  
My temperature is runnin' high_

Cry at night  
No one in sight  
An' we got so much to share  
Talking's fine  
If you got the time  
But I ain't got the time to spare  
Yeah

Do you wanna touch (yeah)  
Do you wanna touch (yeah)  
Do you wanna touch me there, where  
Do you wanna touch (yeah)  
Do you wanna touch (yeah)  
Do you wanna touch me there, where  
There, yeah

Yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah

Every girl an' boy  
Needs a little joy  
All you do is sit an' stare  
Beggin' on my knees  
Baby, won't you please  
Run your fingers through my hair

My, my, my  
Whiskey and rye  
Don't it make you feel so fine  
Right or wrong  
Don't it turn you on  
Can't you see we're wastin' time, yeah

Do you wanna touch (yeah)  
Do you wanna touch (yeah)  
Do you wanna touch me there, where  
Do you wanna touch (yeah)  
Do you wanna touch (yeah)  
Do you wanna touch me there, where  
There, yeah

Puck tossed his bag carelessly onto the floor and stripped off his fleece as he watched and listened to Rachel, who seemed oblivious to his presence while she sang. She was so fucking talented and versatile. He'd heard her belt out show tunes and pop songs and now she was digging into some rock like it was what she sang all the time. And it was _hot_. Not to mention the suggestive lyrics, to which his answer was a resounding _yes_. He was, at the moment, super happy with his assholery that led to her singing with the band. This was going to be fun.

The song ended and Mike and Matt were playfully bowing down to her talent, making her throw her head back and laugh. His deep voice behind her made her startle.

"That an invitation, Smalls?" he lewdly asked, making everyone in the room roll their eyes. He grinned when she frowned and then opened up his guitar case. "'Cause I think you already know my answer."

"Dude—can we please just play?" Finn asked.

Rachel sent Finn a grateful smile. "I'm with Finn. Let's just get this over with."

He opened his mouth to tell her that she wouldn't be saying that when they slept together, but Finn's warning look stopped him. So he smirked instead and pulled the strap of his guitar around him. "Got anything else you want to share with us, Berry?"

She shot him a steely look and walked past him to dig out the music she'd brought with her as well as the tambourine he'd given her. "I've got a few ideas," she informed him, passing around the music to the rest of the group.

The rest of rehearsal went off without a hitch. His crude comments were kept to a minimum and she didn't feel the need to brain him with his guitar…probably because she was having a lot more fun that she'd expected. (The tambourine really _was_ as fun to play as it looked.) At one point during _Hurts So Good_, he caught her eye and smiled, not smirked, actually smiled, and she felt her pulse trip in her chest. Guess there was some truth in those lyrics. And in all honesty, she found his passion and knowledge for music to be pretty deep and that surprised the hell out of her.

After rehearsal, she quickly gathered her music, placing it neatly into her bag, wanting to get out of there as fast as possible before she did something idiotic, like forget that he was the kind of guy who screws random hobags in bar bathrooms. She made some idle chit-chat with Mike, Matt and Finn as she got her coat and scarf on. Telling them she'd see them on Saturday, she smiled and headed for the exit, not bothering to address the reason she was there in the first place.

Tugging her hat down as the exceptionally cold November air hit her face; she'd taken approximately four steps before he called out to her. She slowed and turned around to face him. It was becoming increasingly more difficult to deny the attraction she felt just from _looking_ at him. Add in the singing and guitar playing and she was really in over her head. (So _not_ ideal.)

"Berry, what the hell?" he asked, bridging the gap between them in two greedy strides. The white hat was a stark contrast against her dark hair that fanned over the shoulders of her bright red pea coat. Long lashes framed those deep, gypsy eyes, currently looking up guardedly at him. She looked like a picture as fat snowflakes fell around them and she glanced up at the sky in wonderment, a smile stretching over her face. He kind of wanted to check to see if his junk had fallen off for even _thinking_ such pathetically sappy crap, but when the smile reached her eyes and she looked at him and said, "_I thought it smelled like snow_," all happy like it was the greatest thing she'd ever seen, he sort of just told his inner dialogue to _shut the fuck up already_. He hitched up his guitar case on his shoulder. "Where you headed in such a hurry?"

She smiled at him, the snow blinding her to the reasons she'd fled rehearsal so quickly. "Well, now that it's snowing, I'm going to get some hot chocolate and walk around for awhile."

He felt the corner of his mouth quirk up into a crooked smile. "I can't believe you like this shit," he teased, gesturing to the snow.

Rachel shrugged her shoulders. (There was that odd gesture again.) "There's something peaceful and magical about it that I love." She waited a beat. "Do you want to walk with me?"

"Hot chocolate a part of the deal?" he asked with a smirk.

She laughed. "Sure."

"Let's go," he grinned, shoving his hands into the pocket of his coat. He really needed to remember his gloves when it was this fucking cold outside.

They walked a block in comfortable silence, the noise of the city oddly muffled by the snow. As they waited for the light to change so they could cross the street, he looked over at her. "I was impressed by your vocal chops today."

She smirked up at him. "Thank you."

"This is where you say I was good, too," he prompted, nudging her shoulder.

"I don't think your ego needs any stroking, Puck," Rachel told him frankly.

He bit his tongue, resisting the urge to tell her he had something else she could stroke and mentally patted himself on the back for such a feat. When she looked at him with an arched brow like she'd expected the comment to come spewing forth from his lips, he just flashed a crooked grin. His phone rang and he fished it from the pocket of his jeans. He frowned at the caller ID.

"Hi, Cap," Puck said gruffly, listening as his captain barked orders. "On my way, give me thirty." Sighing, he closed his phone and shoved it back into his pocket. "Sorry—gonna have to bail on our nature walk, Smalls. There's a really big blaze downtown and they need extra men."

"Okay," she nodded, smiling softly. "I'll see you on Saturday."

"You bet," he smirked. He turned and headed for the subway.

"Hey, Puck," Rachel called.

"Yeah?" he asked, turning back.

"Be careful—you know, at work."

Puck smiled wickedly, slowly striding back towards her. "Worried about me?"

Rachel rolled her eyes. "I'm sure you can handle yourself just fine. I was merely being polite."

"Uh huh," he grinned. "Well, in case I don't make it, Berry, here's something to remember me by." With lightning quick movements, he grabbed the sides of her face and dragged her lips to his. He heard her breath catch in her throat and he plunged, her lips silky and soft, warm despite the snow and the cold. His tongue brushed along her bottom lip and she gasped, drawing him greedily into her mouth. Seriously, fuck work. He wanted to stay right where he was and kiss the hell out of her in the middle of the goddamn sidewalk while the snow fell.

If Rachel's pulse had tripped over a smile, then it positively staggered and wiped out when his lips assaulted hers, setting all of her nerve endings on fire. His lips were smooth as he kissed her long and hard, the promise of things dark and rough and dangerous to come. Her knees were on the verge of buckling when he broke the kiss and smirked down at her, his eyes wild and green.

"Bye, Rachel," he murmured, chuckling at the baffled, unblinking expression on her face. He turned and hurried towards the subway station.

She stood rooted to the concrete for what she was sure was a good minute before she moved and walked five whole blocks in the wrong direction, finally realizing her mistake.

_Well, hell…_

* * *

Reviews as always are love.

Song credit: "Do You Wanna Touch Me" by Joan Jett and The Blackhearts


	10. Lookin' for a Good Time

**A/N: **Thanks so much to all of you for the wonderful reviews. I love it...thanks for all the smiles that you've brought to my face.

Special thanks, as always, to Mandy for being teh awesome. ;) Also, to Jen, Jenna, Nicole and Amy. Thanks for reading through along the way.

Sorry, more song lyrics in this chapter. Regular font = Puck, _Italics_ = Rachel, **Bold** = Both.

I own nothing.

* * *

"Knock knock," Rachel called as she breezed into the _Queen K_ office, a cardboard carrier full of lattes for her and her two best friends in hand. She saw their heads bent together as they scrutinized a top hanging on a dress form. From the fierce looks of determination on both of their faces, she knew from past experience that her arrival couldn't have come at a better time.

Quinn looked up and smiled at Rachel, grateful for a distraction. She and Kurt had been arguing about the particular garment for far too long and it was approaching Cold War territory. "Hey, Rach! Oh, you brought coffee. I could kiss you right now," she joked, walking over to take the proffered cup.

Kurt sniffed at the top and pinched the bridge of his nose, willing the tension from his body. Too much tension led to premature wrinkles and he'd be damned if that happened. "Divalicious," he greeted brightly. He walked over and kissed her cheeks and took the cup from her hands. "Thank you, darling." He sipped, letting the hot beverage soothe his frazzled nerves and gave her the onceover, like he always did. "Love the boots," he declared.

She grinned over the top of her cup, used to this routine by now. "Thanks. How's it going in here?" she asked cautiously, looking over the sketches strewn along the work table. Her two best friends gave a non-committal grunt and knew she wouldn't get much more than that.

"We don't want to talk about this," Quinn began, sweeping a hand along the heap of work.

"No, we want to know what's up with _you_," Kurt chimed in. "You've been …elusive lately."

Rachel shook her head. "I've been busy working. There's a difference. You know you're my two favorite people in the entire world, so it's not like I'd purposely stay away."

"Looking forward to the show tomorrow night?" Quinn asked. "Finn told me that you and Puck managed to get through rehearsal without any bloodshed."

Something fluttered in her belly at the mention of his name. She'd thought about that kiss in the middle of sidewalk two days ago way too often. And every time her blood thickened and pulsed. "Um, yeah, rehearsal was fine—fun even," she responded, keeping her voice level. "I think it'll be nice to be someone other than Velma Kelly for a night."

Kurt gasped, horrified. "Are you _sick_?" he asked, feeling her forehead.

Rachel slapped his hand away. "Don't be so dramatic. You both know how much I adore _Chicago_, but after a year of eight shows a week it does get a bit repetitive. Tomorrow night will just be—different. That's all." She looked to Quinn for backup, but was met with one of her steely, calculating stares. "What?"

"You need to be careful," she warned, smoothing her blonde hair behind her ear. Rachel arched a questioning brow. "Puck," Quinn added.

"What about him?" Rachel sighed, bored. She knew it had been the right decision to keep that kiss to herself…she really didn't feel like getting a lecture, no matter how well-meaning it might be.

"Finn said he noticed a look between the two of you at band practice the other day."

Rachel chuckled at the absurdity of her statement. "A look?" she asked. "I believe that we did in fact _look _at each other once or twice during the course of a few hours. I also looked at Finn. And Mike and Matt, for that matter. You going to warn me off there? Fabs, this is what we call _reaching_."

"Don't be a brat," Quinn sniffed, affronted. "Look, you know how much it pains me to admit when I was wrong," she began, shooting a heated glare at Kurt when he snorted, "but I was wrong to try and push the two of you together. I think Puck's a fun guy, but…" she trailed off. "I know you're a big girl, so all I'll say is that you should be careful where he's concerned, okay? Kurt?" she asked, imploring him with her eyes for a little help.

"Oh, I agree," Kurt said smoothly, making Rachel roll her eyes like a petulant teenager who was tired of mom and dad harping on her. "You absolutely _should _be careful—make him wear a condom."

Rachel and Quinn both dropped their mouths open and sputtered an incredulous "What?"

Kurt grinned evilly, pleased to have captured their attention with such flair. "Quinn, you stay out of it. Just because you've got a boy scout doesn't mean everyone needs one, too. Rachel, sweetie, allow me to be blunt."

"Are you anything but?" Rachel scoffed.

He waved off her statement dismissively. "You need to get laid. I'm _beyond_ tired of you being extra bitchy lately." He studied his fingernails, mentally making a note to get a manicure after work because his cuticles were out of control. "Puck looks like he could screw the bitchy right out of you." His lips turned up and his lifted his eyes to hers, arching a perfectly manscaped brow. "So, make him bag it and have fun."

Rachel's cheeks flamed crimson as she gawped at her friend. Clearly he was a few fries short of a Happy Meal.

"Have you _lost _your mind, Kurt?" Quinn snapped. "Did you forget that Puck is the kind of guy who likes to nail sluts in crowded bar bathrooms?"

"Then it's a good thing that Rachel's limber." Glancing at the clock on the wall, he smiled. "Ooh, I've got to run. Drew is taking me to lunch. Tata!" he called, wiggling his fingers.

"Don't listen to him," Quinn said, turning quickly when Kurt flounced out of the office. Her tone and crazed expression were just shy of horrified.

"I'm not," Rachel insisted, even though she _had_ been thinking about it this week. _A lot. _Especially since Wednesday when he'd nearly kissed the life out of her. If he could get her going like that with just one kiss, then…it was foolish, but really, they were just _thoughts_, so she didn't see the harm. "Let's change the subject. How are you and Finn?"

Quinn's eyes went soft and the smile on her face could only be termed _dreamy_ as she opened her mouth and gushed about her boyfriend and the romantic date he took her on the other night.

* * *

Saturday night finally rolled around and once again Puck found himself backstage at a gig, tuning his guitar and waiting on Rachel Berry to show up. But unlike the last time where he'd _wanted_ her to show, this time he _needed_ her to. They all did.

She was really fucking late.

He had brief moment of panic where he wondered if this was some sort of elaborate payback and that she hadn't really forgiven him and this was her way of making him look like a complete douchetard in front of everyone. But then he remembered the look on her face after he'd kissed her senseless in the snow and _knew better_. Oh, she'd show up alright, he thought smugly. But she needed to and _fast_ because they were due to start playing the reunion in ten minutes.

He was just about to pick up his phone to see what in the _holy fuck_ was taking her so long when she rushed through the door, her dark hair bouncing around the shoulders of her red coat. "Jesus Christ, Smalls—cuttin' it kind of close don't you think?" he bit out gruffly, the muscles in his jaw twitching. He pushed to his feet and grabbed his guitar.

She ignored the tone; she was _really_ late after all. "Sorry," she said breathlessly, tossing her bag onto a table, "technical difficulties at the theater today, so the show ran late." Popping open the buttons on her coat, she peeled it off and threw it over a chair. The nice part about feeling so rushed was that she didn't have the luxury of time to feel awkward or nervous from seeing him again AK…_after kiss_. She'd deal with that later. Rooting through her bag, she pulled out her lip gloss and compact mirror, deftly slicking gloss over her full lips.

Puck turned to retort with something snarky, but the words died in his throat when his eyes got a load of her. Dark jeans slung low over her hips and the black tuxedo vest she wore fit like a glove and hit just past midriff, leaving an expanse of bare, golden skin visible to his roaming eyes. His fingers itched to skim over it. Tall black boots spanned to her knees and as she turned, he caught a glimpse of a red lace bra peeking out at the top of the vest behind a few open buttons. Her hair was full and wavy and she'd done something different to her eyes that enhanced the gypsy-like quality. The entire look was sex kitten meets rock 'n roll and he was on the verge of physically drooling. "Fuck me," he muttered, feeling the heat churn in his gut, his blood heading south to wake up his favorite appendage.

"Did you say something?" Rachel asked, pulling the pink tambourine from her bag.

He smirked and stepped closer, wanting a better look at her. She whirled around, her hair whipping him in the face and sending clouds of expensive fragrance up his nose. She smelled as exotic as she looked tonight and it was mouthwateringly intoxicating. Color bloomed prettily on her cheeks and he grinned, letting his eyes slowly rake over her. "Yeah, I said _fuck me_, you look hot," he rasped.

His words were crude, but her pulse hammered erratically against her ribs regardless. She forced herself to remain calm as she stared up into his eyes (mossy green and amused…like a mood ring his eyes were) and respond the way he would—she smirked. "Thank you."

Chuckling softly, he smirked at her unexpected choice of words. He gave her another onceover (seriously, she was _insanely hot_ tonight) and shook his head slightly. When his eyes finally lifted to hers again, he noticed that she was approaching annoyed, which only made him grin more.

"You done now? Your leering is bordering on creepy," she told him, her lips twitching upward, completely undermining her words.

"It's your fault for looking so damn _good_, Berry," he smiled crookedly, leaning in closer. He reached out and brushed his calloused fingertips slowly down her bare arm, satisfied when he felt the goose bumps break out over her heated skin.

Rachel fought the shiver off tooth and nail, determined to not give him the upper hand. Inside, though, her blood began to hum. "What do you think you're doing?" she asked tartly, shrugging his hand away, instantly mourning the loss of contact.

"Not even a hundredth of what I want to do," he muttered lasciviously, a wicked grin on his face. She peered up at him, heat flickering in those big doe eyes. Fuck, he needed her naked _yesterday_. He was going to kiss her again, get another taste to tide him over until the show was finished. Then, maybe they'd just fuck each other into oblivion. (He was hopeful.) His lips were halfway to hers until _dipshit _Mike ruined it by bounding into the room. Rachel jumped back from him like a shot.

"Rachel! Great, you're here!" he said enthusiastically, seemingly unaware of what he'd just walked in on. "Showtime, guys!"

And just as quickly as he'd appeared, he vanished through the door again.

"We should go," Rachel said, grateful for the interruption. "Can't keep the class of '89 waiting." She flashed a quick smile, her dimples winking. Grabbing her tambourine, she hurried after Mike, leaving Puck in her wake.

* * *

"Man, Rachel, you're a killer!" Mike exclaimed, rubbing her shoulders playfully and making her laugh as they walked off stage between sets. "Seriously, it's so much fun having you in the band tonight."

Rachel turned and beamed a toothy grin at him. "Thanks, Mike. I'm having the best time." And she really was. Like she'd told Quinn and Kurt, this was a night to be herself and have fun singing the songs she grew up with while entertaining an audience. The crowd was really into to the band, dancing and singing along. It was, simply, a blast.

She made a beeline for the restroom, mostly because she had to pee and partly because she wasn't quite ready to pick up the conversation she and Puck had started before the show. Blowing out a breath, she stared at her reflection in the mirror and fluffed her hair. While wiping away non-existent smudges of eyeliner, she thought about the heated looks and knowing grins they'd exchanged during a few of the songs and her heart beat frantically. Performing with him was like some weird sort of aphrodisiac that had every nerve ending in her body sparking wildly. She knew she wouldn't be able to resist him much longer. She wasn't sure she even _wanted_ to resist him anymore. Kurt's advice was becoming more and more appealing with every passing second.

The door opened and two of the reunion attendees spilled inside, laughing as they stumbled towards the sink, bumping into Rachel in the process. She swallowed the pithy comment on her tongue and moved down to make room for the inebriated women.

"I'm telling you, that guitar player is the hottest thing I've ever seen," the blonde said, straightening her dress and adjusting her breasts for maximum cleavage. "Did I tell you that I was the one that booked them?"

The tall, auburn haired woman rolled her eyes and reapplied her lipstick. "Only about twenty times, Rebekah."

"You just _know_ he likes it dirty. Seriously, he's sex on a stick." She practiced pouting in the mirror, shifting her boobs around again.

Rachel fought off the eye roll and wondered how that blonde planned to wrangle the beach balls she'd smuggled in her dress into submission as she headed for the stall.

"You're a shameless hussy, Beks. What about Robert? He's so hunky."

Rebekah scrunched up her nose. "He is, but after fifteen years I'm getting a little bored. Besides, I'm pretty sure he's screwing his secretary, so why can't I have my fun, too?" The women snorted and laughed conspiratorially before opening the door and walking out again.

Rachel washed her hands and with one last check of her appearance, she breezed out of the restroom, in desperate need of a beer before their second set.

She was waiting at the bar when she felt an ice cold bottle on the small of her back, making her jump. Angling her head, she looked right into Puck's smirking face. "Was that necessary?" she asked, her lips quirking crookedly.

He shrugged and offered her the bottle, bringing the other to his lips. "You looked hot," he drawled.

The double entendre wasn't lost on her. Her lips curved flirtatiously as she glanced up at him, her eyes dancing. "I just met your fan club in the bathroom," she told him casually.

His eyebrow cocked up and he grinned. "That's funny…I just met yours, too. Seems they like the way you shake your ass and grip the microphone when you sing." He was in complete agreement with them. He nearly blew a load on stage during _I Love Rock and Roll _when she dropped to her knees for a few bars and slithered up slowly, tossing that mass of curls back. "Pretty sure they were imagining you gripping something else." He chuckled when she rolled her eyes. "What's my fan club like?" he asked roguishly.

Rachel's lips twisted into a tart smirk. "Surgically enhanced and bottle blonde."

Puck laughed dryly. "Jealous?"

She shook her head as she gulped from the bottle. "Blonde's not really my color and I swim just fine—no need for my own PFDs."

"Funny," he retorted.

"Thanks for the beer, Puck," she grinned, shifting to walk away when he grabbed her wrist, halting her.

"Hey guys, there you are," Mike interrupted. "Break's over."

"Great, thanks, Mike," Rachel said, once again leaving Puck behind.

Interrupted. _Again_. Puck was seriously about to kick Mike's ass.

* * *

Puck grabbed the microphone and spoke into it. "Time for our last song. Thanks for being such a great crowd…we've had a lot of fun tonight and we hope you did, too. Give it up for Finn on sticks, Mike on guitar and keys, Matt on bass. And a special thanks to the hot and talented Rachel for making us sound better than we normally do," he grinned, slanting a look in her direction as the crowd boisterously applauded. She shot a sly smile back at him, which broke into a wide grin as their eyes held. _Goddammit!_ Singing with her was really turning him the fuck on. Her outfit and heated glances weren't helping.

Finn counted off with his drumsticks and Puck went into the guitar intro for _Looking for a Good Time_.

Girl you're beautiful  
You're bout near perfect  
But I bet somebody's already told you that  
Name your poison  
Name your passion  
Cause a boy like me just couldn't help but ask

_Keep on talking to me baby  
I'm hanging on your every word  
Keep those drinks a coming maybe  
We'll both get what we deserve_

**How bout baby  
We make a promise  
To not promise anything more than one night  
Complicated situations  
Only get worse in the morning light  
Hey I'm just lookin' for a good time  
**  
Put in a long hard week doing this 9 to 5  
And you're just the girl to get that off my mind  
You shouldn't've worn that dress  
You shouldn't dance like that  
You got this little heart of mine in overdrive

_I sure love this conversation  
The band is good, the music's loud  
But would you get the wrong impression  
If I called us a cab right now  
_

Aw, yeah!

**How bout baby  
We make a promise  
To not promise anything more than one night  
Complicated situations  
Only get worse in the morning light  
Hey I'm just lookin' for a good time**

Go ahead and lie to me and pull me close

_Tell me that you love me even if you don't_

**The rule is don't you ever even talk about forever  
But you never say never in life  
**  
**How bout baby  
We make a promise  
To not promise anything more than one night  
Complicated situations  
Only get worse in the morning light  
Hey I'm just lookin' for a good time**

Hey I'm just lookin' for a good time

Rachel momentarily took in the applause, so glad she'd given in and agreed to perform with _Fire Extinguishers, _before waving to the crowd and walking backstage. She tried to quell the nervous anticipation that coursed through her veins and end the tug of war going on in her brain where Puck was concerned. It was making her edgy. Kurt's statement about how to take said edge off rang loudly in her ears again. _Ugh!_

"Rachel," Matt greeted when he strolled backstage. "Girl, you can _sing_! Any time you want to sing with the band, please feel free."

"That really was our best show yet," Mike agreed, walking in right behind his band mate.

"Aw, thanks, men—I had a fantastic time," Rachel said, a brilliant smile lighting up her face. "I'm going out to the bar for a drink; do you guys want to come?"

"Damn, I would, but I'm on at 7:00am tomorrow," Mike said.

"Yeah, me, too," Matt grumbled, packing up his bass. "Next time though."

"Sounds good," Rachel nodded and placed her tambourine back into her bag. Running a hand over her red coat, she went back and forth about whether or not to put it on and flee or hang back. The smart decision would've found her bundled up against the cold and in a cab by now, yet she was moving slowly around the room, rooting through her bag for nothing in particular. Mike and Matt left as Finn lumbered into the room.

"Hey, Rach," Finn called.

"Hey, Finn," she answered, smiling over her shoulder, seeing him lugging his drums along.

"I'm heading out to meet Quinn. Wanna come?"

Rachel shook her head. "That's sweet of you, but I don't feel like being a third wheel. You two have fun and tell her I'll call her tomorrow."

"Alright," Finn said affably. "You were really great tonight—thanks again for doing this."

"My pleasure," she assured him, waving goodbye. She heard a '_See ya, asshole_' in the hallway and swallowed thickly seconds before Puck rounded the corner and swaggered into the room.

_And then there were two._

"Sup, Smalls?" he leered, strolling slowly over to his stuff. He plopped down into the chair and began packing up his guitars.

"Hi," she replied, willing her voice to remain calm despite her erratic pulse.

She watched appreciatively as the muscles in his arms flexed and rippled beneath the material of his faded t-shirt. _Enough. _It had been far too long since she'd had the weight of man pressing down on her and _she'd had enough_. Turning, she tugged on her coat and grabbed her bag. With a shake of her hair, she walked over and stood in front of him, waiting until he lifted his eyes to her.

Puck saw her boots and the hem of her red coat before him and he slowly lifted his head, arching a questioning brow as he looked directly into hooded brown eyes. A smirk toyed with his lips when a smile curved seductively over hers.

"Wanna get out of here?" she asked, wrapping her white scarf around her neck, holding his gaze.

_Oh, fuck yes! _He rose to his feet and smirked wickedly down at her. "What'd you have in mind, Rachel?" he asked roguishly. He wanted to hear her _say it_.

Rachel laughed softly, glancing down at the floor quickly before lifting wanton eyes back to his. "This dance we've been doing? It's been fun, but I can't take it anymore. I really need to get your hands on me or I'm going to lose my mind." She angled her head slightly, a kittenish smile on her lips. "I'd rather lose my mind with them on me—it's more fun that way."

_Holy shit._ Puck growled low in the back of his throat as her words registered in his brain, sending a powerful punch of unadulterated lust straight into his gut. He moved to pounce and her hand pushed against his chest in warning, making him snarl. If she was just fucking with him he was going to light himself on fire…and maybe toss her out into the middle of traffic. That shit was _not_ _kosher_.

"Not here," she breathed, curling her fingers into his shirt.

He picked up his coat and shrugged into it. She already had bedroom eyes going on and…_goddamn _she was sexy. _Oh, fuck this. _He grabbed her shoulders and hauled her up against him, crushing his lips heatedly against hers.

She staggered on her tiptoes, her hands grasping the front of his coat to keep from melting down into a puddle on the floor when his tongue plundered her mouth and curled expertly around hers. _God, why—why had she been denying this?_ Her blood pounded and she felt hot and tingly all over. This had to stop so they could get the hell out of there. She moaned softly and felt his fingers dig into her arms as he sucked not so gently on her bottom lip, releasing it with a _pop_. Her feet fell flat on the floor when he loosened his grip on her, their breaths coming out in gasps.

Puck watched her long lashes flutter until pools of chocolate brown gazed fuzzily up at him. He dropped his head until his lips were hot on her ear. "Rachel," he murmured darkly, feeling her tremble against him, "I'm going to fuck you until you can't move." His tongue darted out of his mouth and traced the shell of her ear, smiling devilishly when she trembled even harder.

The wicked promise and swirling tongue around her ear made her eyes roll back into her head. "Can't wait. Let's go," she groaned, pushing him back and heading for the door.

He grabbed his two guitar cases and followed her out the back entrance onto the dimly lit sidewalk.

Lifting two fingers to her mouth, she whistled for an approaching cab that pulled to a screeching halt at the curb.

Puck reached for the door handle and cast his eyes back towards her. "You sure about this?" he asked gruffly. "'Cause if you're not, tell me now." He didn't know where this bout of conscience materialized from, but he prayed like hell she wasn't about to change her mind. There weren't enough cold showers in the world.

Rachel turned to face him fully, her eyes holding his. "I'm sure," she smirked impishly. "So, shut up, and get in the damn cab." The smile he gave her in return could tempt the devil, she decided, turning and opening the door. Her heart hammered loudly as he put his guitars into the car first and slid in next, rattling off his address to the driver. His hand snaked around her wrist and pulled her fluidly down beside him and she shut the door soundly. The cab pulled out into moving traffic.

_This was really happening._

The cab ride, in reality, was rather short, but to Puck it felt like a fucking _eternity_. As it turned out, Rachel Berry was a little (_a lot_) hands-y on the ride to his place and tried to tease him within an inch of his _goddamned life_. And okay, so maybe he'd started it by tangling a hand in her hair and whispering all the things he wanted to do to her once they got to his apartment. She'd shot him a warning look, which he didn't take seriously. In his defense, she negated the look entirely by mewling at one of his suggestions and pressing her head against his fingers while biting her lower lip. (_Hot as fuck, in case you were wondering._) He was dangerously close to embarrassing himself like a teenager and _ruining_ his reputation and any chance to fulfill his promise to her, when he tossed her hand away and pinned her against the door, her eyes rounding in shock, a cunning smile stretching slowly across her face. "I'm gonna pay you back for this," he mumbled.

His eyes sparkled deviously in the passing streetlights as they stared into her hers. She saw the muscles in his jaw twitch again and bit back the moan in her throat from how gorgeous and sexy he looked at that moment. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth again and watched his eyes fall to her mouth, heard his sharp intake of breath and the muttered oath pass his lips. "I hope that you do, Puck," she murmured.

Rachel Berry was a seductive _vixen_. He felt like he was on the verge of winning the sexual lottery. Thanking every higher power when the cab slowed to a stop, he tossed some bills at the driver and pulled Rachel away from the door. She nipped at his earlobe and whispered _Thank God_. With a tempting smile, she opened the door and slipped agilely out of the cab.

He followed suit and hitched the straps of his guitar cases up on his shoulder as the cab drove away. Striding purposefully towards the door of his building, he fished his keys from his pocket and held the door open. Rachel ducked under his arm and into the dim lobby.

Her heart was about to pound _out_ of her chest. With dark eyes, she looked up at him and said, "Lead the way."

* * *

Please don't hate me? I PROMISE that the next chapter will pick up right where this one left off...I PROMISE!

Reviews are love. :)

Song credit: _Lookin' for a Good Time_ by Lady Antebellum


	11. Shook Me All Night Long

**A/N:** My continued thanks to all of you for reading and reviewing and really just inspiring me to keep going with this story. It's so rewarding as a writer to get the kind of response that I'm getting and...yeah, just thanks a million! I'm sorry to have been such a tease with the last chapter and I hope that this one makes it up to you. :)

Writing this type of material makes me want to curl up in a corner and cry because it stresses me out, so I was needy this time and called in the cavalry for help. As always, Mandy, thanks for brainstorming with me and putting up with the insane amounts of crazy and talking me off the ledge. Also to Magi, Nicole, Jenna and Jen for reading along the way and being so encouraging. Love you, bbs!

* * *

Rachel pressed back against the door, his body caging hers as he reached behind her to undo the locks. His heated eyes were intense on hers, and went heavy-lidded when her fingers skittered along his jaw and down the strong curve of his neck. She dropped her hand between them and slowly worked the buttons of her coat, letting it fall open. Her eyes danced devilishly when his hungrily combed down the length of her body.

Puck put the key into another lock and parted the fabric of her coat, running a hand over the planes of her taut stomach, smirking when she quivered beneath his touch. He moved to undo the final lock when her tiny hand began stroking his arousal through his jeans. When he fumbled the keys, she let out a low, sexy laugh that had him inhaling a sharp breath. "You're such a fucking tease, Rachel," he rasped, making her lips curve slowly. Finally managing to get the goddamn door open, he pushed her back into his apartment and kicked the door closed behind them with a resounding slam as he set his guitars down and shed his jacket as quickly as possible.

He rounded, tugging her coat off her shoulders and letting it fall carelessly to the ground as he pressed her back roughly against the door. She grabbed the sides of his face and pulled his mouth down to hers in a greedy, searing kiss. His hands roamed possessively down her body while they devoured each other's mouths. The throaty groan that passed her lips when his hands settled firmly on her ass and lifted her off the ground was like dousing a five alarm fire with kerosene.

_To hell with a lot of foreplay_, he thought, when she changed angles and deepened the kiss, her fingers digging desperately into his shoulders as her long legs wrapped tightly around his waist. They'd had a fucking month of that with all of their dancing around one another. He needed to bury his dick inside her and give them both release like a junkie needed a rush. But first he wanted _just a little more_ of her mouth, because _Christ_ she could kiss. He pinned her against the door with his hips, letting his hands fist wildly in her hair as he assaulted her lips.

Rachel knew that if she died tonight, this is the way she wanted to go. Her heart hammered loudly in her ears as his tongue slid down her throat and over her collarbone. His hand followed a similar path, before sneaking into her vest to palm her lace covered breasts, pinching and pulling her nipples into rock hard peaks. Arching from the exquisite sensation, she felt his length twitch between her thighs even through all that denim between them. He was hard as steel and she wanted him inside of her. _Immediately_. "God, Puck," she breathed, pulling at his t-shirt. "I want you." She felt his wicked smile against her throat and she unwrapped her legs from his waist, wriggling down until her feet hit the floor.

Puck ripped off his shirt and set his fingers to undoing the buttons on her vest, letting it hang open. He watched her hands unbutton his jeans and ease the zipper down, lifting his eyes to her face and grinning wickedly at the look of surprise and aroused gasp when she discovered that he'd gone commando and his cock sprang free. She recovered quickly enough and began gliding silky fingers up and down his shaft. "Damn, Rachel," he bit out hoarsely, her fingers driving him crazy. Unfastening her jeans and yanking them down over her hips, he groaned when his eyes lit on the tiny postage stamp of red lace that served as gatekeeper to the Promised Land. "You're so fucking sexy," he said gruffly, cupping his hand over her mound, finding her completely soaked. "And wet—_Jesus Christ_." He captured her lips again, kissing her hard and swallowing her moan when he shoved two fingers deep inside her pussy.

Her knees buckled and her eyes rolled back when he scissored his fingers in her core. "Oh, God," she cried, tearing her lips away from his, gasping as the ball of heat began to tighten and coil low in her belly. She whimpered when he removed his fingers and opened her eyes to look hazily at him. He ran wet fingers over her mouth before bringing them to his lips and licking her arousal off.

Puck groaned when the heady taste hit his tongue and he nearly came unglued when she slowly licked her lips. _In her. Now._ He cupped the back of her head and crushed his mouth to hers once more while he reached blindly for a condom in his wallet. He broke the kiss and tore open the foil packet. "Hurry," she said breathlessly, running her hands across his abdomen. Rolling it into place, he grasped the backs of her thighs and hitched her up against the door, spreading her legs as wide as he could seeing as her jeans were trapped at the knees because of her _stupid boots_. Reaching between their bodies, he shoved her thong out of the way and grabbed his cock, stroking the head of it at her entrance, making her suck in a breath in anticipation as he split her folds apart. His eyes lifted to hers, and he plunged inside, grunting at how _fucking hot and tight_ she felt around him.

His hips snapped hard against hers, and she rolled to meet him thrust for thrust, creating a delicious friction between them. "_So good_," she panted, trying to take him deeper, "you feel so fucking good." She dropped open-mouthed kisses along his neck, her fingers grasping his shoulders tightly. "Puck—deeper, please," she begged.

He slid nearly all the way out before slamming back in again, growling when he couldn't get as deep as he wanted because of her fucking jeans being in the fucking way. "_Goddammit_," he bit out, gripping her hips and thrusting as hard as he could. He pulled out and dropped her down to her feet, ignoring her whine of protest. Hooking his hands under her armpits, he hauled her up and carried her across the apartment, depositing her unceremoniously on the kitchen table.

Rachel shimmied her panties down over her hips and lay back, moaning when he dragged her to the edge of the table and threw both legs over one of his shoulders. He plowed himself fully back into her heat, snapping his hips frantically as his name tore from her lips. "_Yes,_" she hissed, her hands groping for purchase on the table. "Harder!"

Blood thundered in his ears and he pushed her legs forward, driving himself higher and deeper within her walls. Her sounds were driving him wild and his release was dangerously close. He slipped his fingers over her clit and rubbed it hard as he continued railing her on the table. Her walls started to clench tightly around him and his thrusts grew more powerful and frantic.

A stream of _yeses _and _oh Gods_ poured from her mouth as the pressure inside her spiked and exploded, heat spreading throughout her entire body. "Puck," she cried.

Two more thrusts was all it took before his own release took hold and his vision blurred as he came hard, shuddering as his orgasm wracked through his entire body. "Fuck! Rachel." He rested his head against her thigh as he caught his breath. Pressing a kiss there, he lowered her legs and went and disposed of the used condom. He walked back over and pulled her up so they were face to face. She looked up at him under heavy eyes as a slow, satisfied grin spread over her face, making his lips twitch into a smirk.

"Well, then…that was…_yeah_," she managed inarticulately, smiling at the amused look on his face.

"Fucking hot, is what it was, Berry," he supplied.

Rachel chuckled softly and nodded her head. "It was," she said, smoothing her hair back out of her eyes. He placed his hands on the table and leaned in, catching her lips in a slow, teasing kiss.

Resisting the urge to sigh, she glanced down at her disheveled appearance and his instead, and laughed. They'd been so desperate to just _get to it_ that only the essentials had been moved out of the way. (_So hot. Seriously! Oh my God!_) Sliding off the table, she moved to pull up her pants when he stopped her.

"You're not going anywhere yet, Rachel," he told her, his voice deep and gruff.

"I know that," she replied coyly, tugging her jeans up over her boots. She leaned back onto the table. "I was going to take these off," she said, lifting her leg and pressing the toe of her boot into his chest, smiling wickedly.

Puck smirked again, turned on by this kittenish side to her. He unzipped her boots and pulled them off, and pushed her jeans and panties down and off her legs. "Good," he began, running his hands slowly up those long, toned legs and settling them on her firm ass. He lifted her up and set her down on the table again. Smoothing the vest off her body, he smirked, "because I'm nowhere near done with you yet."

"I know that, too," she grinned, reaching her hands around to unclasp her bra, slowly pulling it off to bare her breasts to him. "I'm still moving—and as I recall that wasn't part of the deal. I'd say you've got your work cut out for you," she challenged in a teasing tone. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and smiled.

His eyebrows shot up, then he grinned, slow and devious. Rachel Berry was _fucking awesome_. "You might be sorry you said that," Puck warned, his eyes poring over her now naked body. (So much better than he remembered…especially now that he got to do dirty things to her.)

Her blood began to beat again, the throbbing need between her thighs back in full force. She ran her hands and eyes over his chest and down his arms. (His body was _insane_.) "I doubt it," she said, her lips curving, making him laugh dryly.

"You know, Berry," he began slowly, brushing his fingers over her thighs, pleased when she quivered and leaned into his touch, "I seem to recall you complaining about some past encounters…so I think it's time for me to show you how a real man eats pussy," he finished, grinning crookedly at the surprised look in her big doe eyes. He lowered her back on the table and spread her thighs wide, bowing his head to her sex. The first long, slow lick against her heat had her arching off the table and him smirking wickedly.

"Not sorry at all," she promised breathlessly.

* * *

The next morning, as she tiptoed quietly through his apartment looking for her clothes, she was _kind of _sorry. She was _kind of_ sorry for challenging him, because he'd made good on his promise and now every damn muscle in her body _ached_. She hadn't checked, but she wouldn't be surprised if she was black and blue between her thighs. It wasn't that she hadn't enjoyed it, because, hello, who wouldn't want to be fucked into unconsciousness by a man who looked like Puck? She'd actually lost count of the number of orgasms he'd brought her to, but she knew that the number was more than she'd ever had in one night before…by a long shot. Turns out? Noah Puckerman wasn't just posturing about his sexual prowess. In fact, he may have been being modest. (_Un-freaking-real!_) But, back to the point she was trying to make before she got so sidetracked…she had _two_ shows to do today and the mere thought of her dance moves made her want to weep and curl up into a ball. However, she was a professional, and she'd down a handful of ibuprofen and some water and suck it up like professionals did when the need arose. _The show must go on_.

As she quickly fastened her bra and tugged on her jeans, she was _kind of_ sorry to be sneaking out while he slept. But as great as last night was (and it really, _really was_), she wasn't stupid. Puck was…well…_Puck_. And she knew now that she'd become a notch on his weathered belt, he would move on to someone else. It didn't bother her (not really) because she knew going in to this what his reputation was like and that he didn't tend to do repeats with his conquests. They were adults, they'd had a great time, and now they could go on with their lives and maybe still be _friends or whatever_. (Too much sex addled her brain and hindered her vocabulary.) Just because they'd spent the entire night having mind-blowing sex, she wasn't operating under any delusions that they were meant to be together, or anything ridiculous like that. (And just in case you weren't clear by now, he'd _easily_ taken the crown away from Ben Prindle—and made her admit it. Out loud. More than once. Mildly embarrassing for her, but _whatever_. The wickedly victorious smile on his face at the time was _sexy_ and he proved to her, _again (twice!)_, why he was number one with a bullet_._)

Grabbing her vest off the table, her cheeks flushed and something warm stirred in her belly as she remembered everything that went down there (pun not intended…much). _God!_ She definitely wouldn't say no to another night like that, but she sure as hell wasn't going to take the chance of getting the Puckerone brush-off by asking for it. She'd initiated things to begin with and that would not be happening a second time. No, the ball was no longer in her court, so on the slim chance that he wanted a repeat of last night, he'd have to seek her out. Closing the door quietly behind her, she decided she wouldn't hold her breath.

* * *

His cell phone rang and jerked him from his slumber. He grumbled and blindly reached for the offending object on the nightstand. Seeing Finn's name on the ID, he debated whether or not to ignore it. Turning, he saw that the other side of the bed was empty and he frowned. _Damn._ He'd had every intention of rolling over and having another piece of Berry pie for breakfast. He pressed talk and managed a gruff, "What?"

"Hey, dude. We still on for wings and the game today?"

Puck yawned hugely and rubbed his eyes, focusing at the red numbers on the alarm clock. It was already after one. "Yeah, I'll meet you at the bar."

"You cool if Quinn comes?"

He thought for a second that maybe Rachel would tag along, too, but then remembered she had two shows today. "Sure, man, whatever. I like Blondie even if she hates me."

"She doesn't hate you—she just doesn't want you messing with Rachel."

_Way too late for that_, he thought with an evil grin. "Tell your girlfriend to rest easy. Nothing's going on with me and Berry. Look, man, I'll just see you later." He clicked off and tossed his phone back on the nightstand.

Rolling over and shifting the pillow under his head, he got a whiff of her perfume, turning all thought to the events of the night before. _Rachel Berry. Tons of hot and dirty sex. _There wasn't much more to say except _final-fucking-ly_! He knew they would be hot together, but that exceeded every one of his (very high) expectations. She was sexy and feisty and _vocal_. Also _f-l-e-x-i-b-l-e_. Holy God. That really was the most fun he'd had in a long damn time. And then there was that little matter of her admitting, repeatedly, (okay, so maybe he'd prodded once or twice) that he was the best fuck she'd ever had. Take _that_ Ben Prindle. _Douche nozzle_. That was a big stroke for the ol' Puckerone ego.

He was a little surprised that she hadn't stuck around or even said _bye_ before she left. Yeah, yeah, she had to work and—_God_—he was turning into a pussy. He and Rachel had both had an insane itch and they'd sufficiently scratched it. (read: _fucked each other half to death_) There was no need to turn it into something it wasn't. Still, hot sex was hot sex. And he and Rachel? _A goddamned inferno!_ He'd like to have more of that and soon, please.

He closed his eyes and went back to sleep, as visions of naked Rachel riding him danced in his head.

* * *

Quinn picked at the bowl of peanuts in front of her, shooting Finn a worried look. "Are you sure I'm not intruding on your male bonding time?" she asked. The sweet smile he gave her in return calmed her nerves a little.

"Baby, I told you—you're not intruding. I think this will be a good chance for you and Puck to get to know each other a little better. Are you really that bothered by what happened at your birthday?" He ran his hand over her knee and inched higher, resting it there. "Because even though he's my best friend and has been for years—that's just who Puck is. Just accept him for that and you should be good."

She placed her hand on top of his and laced their fingers together. "While that was completely disgusting, that's not it really," she shook her head. "I just can't believe I was so off the mark with him. I wanted to push him and Rachel together so badly. Something really made me think they'd be great together and I thought he'd be the one for her. But Rachel's already had her heart broken and I think that Puck would only destroy her in the long run. It's annoying because normally I'm _super_ accurate with my matchmaking skills." She started ticking off her list of successes on her fingers. "First, there was my sister and her husband. They've been married for six years and have two kids with another on the way. Then, there's Tina and Artie—married for a year. Kurt and Drew, they've been together for over two years now and I while I'm not positive, I wouldn't be surprised if we were attending a commitment ceremony for them within the next year."

"You forgot one," he told her.

Quinn arched a brow. "Who?"

"Me and you."

Her face lit up with a bright, happy smile. "My gift started at an early age. I picked you out for myself a decade ago," she laughed softly, nudging his shoulder. "We just took a very long detour." She tilted her face up for a kiss and he dropped his lips to hers. Her head swam like bubbles in a glass of champagne, the way it always did when he kissed her. If she wasn't there already, she was definitely close to being completely and totally in love with Finn Hudson.

"Go Hudson," Puck said proudly, sliding into the booth across from the lovebirds.

Finn and Quinn broke apart and cast their eyes at him. Finn's eyes smiled and Quinn's rolled in annoyance. "Hi, Puck," Quinn said coolly, feeling the warning squeeze of Finn's hand on her leg. She decided to try being a little nicer.

"Quinn," he nodded curtly, grabbing a handful of peanuts from the bowl.

She exchanged a quick look with Finn, who smiled encouragingly. "I hear the show went well last night. Finn said you guys had a lot of fun with Rachel."

Puck grinned slowly. If Quinn only knew just how much fun he'd had with her best friend. "Yeah, it was a great show. Rachel killed it."

"What'd you do after the show, dude?" Finn asked.

Pouring himself a glass from the pitcher of beer in the middle of the table, he shrugged carelessly. "Went home, had something to eat and got in bed." All true, he thought with an imperceptible twitch of his lips.

The couple once again exchanged glances, this time with matching expressions of surprise.

"What?" Puck asked lazily, looking at his best friend.

"Nothing, really," Finn said, running a hand over his hair. "Just kinda surprised you didn't pick up one of those skanks at the reunion. No offense," he added as an afterthought.

"Sorry to disappoint, buddy." He did not in fact go home with a _skank_ last night. "So, Blondie—who's your horse in this race today?"

"I don't really care," she said. "I'm more of a Browns fan. Though I see from your shirt and Finn's that you've converted to Giants fans. Turning your backs on the Ohio teams?" Quinn clucked her tongue.

"The Browns? Aw, that's cute," Puck sneered, making Finn laugh.

"They do suck, babe," Finn agreed.

"Hmph," Quinn sniffed. "I'm putting my money on the Eagles today."

"Shh!" Both Finn and Puck said. "Ah, Quinn, cool it with the Eagles talk—Giants fans get pretty mean," Finn warned looking around sheepishly.

"Not saying I wouldn't do it, Quinn, but I'd prefer to not get into a fight today," Puck added, taking a big gulp from his glass.

"Well, if Rachel was here, she'd wear her Colts jersey, get the bartender to switch one of the TVs and tell anyone who gave her crap about it to fuck off."

Puck grinned into his glass. He'd pay money to see that. "I bet she would."

"Just stay away from Rachel," Quinn snapped.

His jaw twitched in annoyance. "You know what, Quinn? Lay off the mama bear act, alright. Rachel's an adult who seems like she could handle herself just fine in any situation. So why don't you stop jumping up my ass at every goddamn turn? It's getting really old."

"Dude!" Finn admonished.

"Fuck this. You guys have fun. I'll just go watch the game at home." He slid out of the booth and headed for the exit.

"Puck!" Quinn called, making him pause. He turned and shoved his hands into his pockets.

"What?"

"I'm sorry, okay," Quinn said sincerely. "I know I'm super protective of Rachel, but that's just how we are with one another...how we've always been. You were right though. She can handle herself just fine and I should remember that more often. And as for you, you're an adult and what you choose to do with your time is your business and I shouldn't judge you for it. For Finn's sake, I'd really like it if we could just start over and try to get along. Do you think we could do that?"

Puck considered her for a moment before finally shrugging. "Buy me a beer and we'll call it even," he said with a smirk.

Quinn smiled. "Okay then." Turning, she walked back into the bar and Puck followed.

* * *

After a really long day and managing to survive both of her performances (barely), Rachel had just slipped her robe off and pulled back the covers, intending to sleep until noon, when she heard a knock on her door. She glanced at the clock and saw that it was just after midnight. Sighing, she put her robe back on and padded towards the door. Another relaxed knock sounded and she switched on the light in her living room and rose on her tiptoes to look through the peephole. Her breath hitched when she saw Puck standing on the other side.

She swallowed thickly and pressed a hand to calm the butterflies in her tummy. Quickly, she checked out her appearance in the mirror in the tiny entryway and undid the locks on the door. She slowly exhaled a breath to calm her nerves and pulled the door open. When she did, she found him leaned casually against the frame with her red thong dangling from the crook of his finger. Her eyes shifted to his and when he grinned that sexy, crooked grin, she felt the exhaustion evaporate. "What are you doing here?" she greeted, a slow smile stretching across her lips.

Puck twirled the panties around his finger and slowly looked her up and down. The short, emerald silk robe barely skimmed the tops of her thighs. The same thighs he intended to have wrapped around his body again. "Well, Berry, you left this little breadcrumb behind for me to find and I thought I'd follow the trail. Looks like I found what I wanted."

Rachel bit her lower lip and stifled a laugh. "That was the cheesiest thing I've heard in a while."

He smirked wickedly. "But you still want to get me naked, don't you, Rachel?" he asked smugly.

She swallowed a moan and grabbed his coat. "Shut up," she ordered, pulling him through the doorway and dragging his mouth down to hers.

* * *

Reviews are love. I'd really like to hear your thoughts on this chapter. ;) Thanks for reading!


	12. Dirty Little Secret

**A/N:** Many, many thanks to all of you for reading, reviewing and alerting this story. So many new readers it seems, too, and that's super exciting. Thank you. :) This chapter is a little shorter than the others...sorry. As always, thanks to Mandy for her help with this.

I own nothing.

* * *

"_Goddamn, Rachel,_" he groaned, collapsing back against the pillows. His breathing was ragged, his vision spotty and his skin felt like it could burst into flames at any moment. He was sort of amazed that they'd survived. Kicking the covers off his body, he felt the beads of sweat evaporate from his skin as his brain slowly regained its function. Rolling onto his side, he expected to see her head resting on the pillow and not her feet. "The hell, Berry?" he chuckled lowly, lifting up the covers, seeing her motionless save for the deep rise and fall of her chest as she tried to catch her breath. "How'd you end up down there?"

She emitted a little humming noise and opened one eye, taking in his sexy, humored expression. "Not sure. Brain not working," she muttered, stretching her arms overhead and stifling a whimper when her muscles cried out in protest.

With a satisfied smirk, he grabbed the pillow behind his head and flipped to the other end of the bed, rolling her on top of him. She made the cutest little whine in the back of her throat and his lips twitched up. "You okay there, Smalls?" he asked lazily, a knowing grin on his face. He was glad he hadn't talked himself out of coming over to see her again. When he'd walked into the kitchen after the game and found her panties on the floor, his brain instantly flooded with images of the night before, his blood sparking to life. After going round and round in his mind thinking it was too soon to see her again (and maybe a total pussy move on his part), he decided that he was Puck and therefore a badass—a badass that had sufficiently rocked Rachel Berry's world (okay, and maybe she'd rocked his, too) and he could make his own fucking rules. Besides, who was he to deny her (and himself) another night of insanely great sex? Seeing the slow, sexy smile on her face and her long legs peeking out of that excuse for a robe when she answered the door told him he'd made the right decision.

Rachel raised her head and looked down at him through dark, hooded eyes, a fully satiated smile curving languidly on her lips. "Mmm," she hummed. "Better than okay." She placed her hands on either side of his head against the mattress and nipped at his lower lip, pulling back teasingly. "Though I have to say I was surprised to see you at my door tonight," she told him honestly.

"You didn't seem to mind—you started tearing my clothes off the moment I got here," he smirked again, his hands smoothing leisurely down her back until they settled firmly on her ass.

"Do I need to remind you of the cheesy breadcrumb line you opened with?"

"It worked, didn't it?" he asked, an eyebrow arched high.

"I suppose it did," she admitted. She dropped kisses lightly over his jaw. "What'd you do today, or I guess it was yesterday?" His fingers curved into her flesh when she continued her trail of kisses down his neck.

"Uh…" _God, her lips _"…went and watched the Giants game at a bar with Finn and Quinn."

Rachel stopped the kissing and went stiff as a board, panic setting in. "Quinn?" she choked out, her face growing red. _Oh, God._ _Please, no._

"Yeah, she was busting my balls about you and I told her to shove it."

"Oh, my God, did you tell her?" she asked frantically. Rachel pushed to a seated position and furiously brushed the hair out of her face, glaring down accusingly at Puck.

He wanted to laugh. She seemed to be about four seconds away from a complete and utter freak out. "Tell her what?" he asked dumbly.

"Puck!" she cried.

"Oh, that we fucked? Oops! Was I not supposed to?" He couldn't contain the shit-eating grin that broke out on his face. "Does this mean I should cancel the billboard in Times Square that reads _I nailed Rachel Berry from Chicago and she liked it_?"

Rachel glowered down at him, realization that he was joking dawning on her slowly. She huffed out a relieved breath and then slapped him on the chest. Hard. He laughed. "You're an ass! God, you nearly gave me a heart attack."

Puck laughed some more and snaked his arms around her waist when she tried to move off of him. "I wish you could see your face right now." She pouted and he sat up quickly and pressed his torso flush against hers, drawing her in for a kiss and lingering until he felt her relax into it. Pulling away, he leaned back on his hands and leered up at her. "You're not ashamed that you had sex with me are you, Berry?" he asked teasingly, his voice low and sexy.

Rachel pursed her lips and considered his words before smiling impishly. "I should be ashamed of a couple of the positions I let you put me in, but no, I don't regret having sex with you."

He smirked proudly at those words. "Wanna not regret having sex with me again?" he asked devilishly, running his hands along the backs of her thighs.

She groaned, even as her skin prickled beneath his hands, extremely tempted, but she was _exhausted_. "Don't you have to work in the morning?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

He angled his head to read the alarm clock. 2:27. "Fuck—yeah, in four and half hours," he grumbled. "Rain check?" he rasped, bowing his head to draw one pert nipple into his mouth. At her sharp intake of breath, he smirked against her breast.

"Puck," she warned, even as her head fell back and she arched against him, her fingers curling into his biceps. His mouth was _fantastic_.

"What?" he asked mischievously before flicking his tongue over her other nipple.

This sexy fireman was going to be the death of her. She just _knew_ it. "I thought you were leaving?" she murmured, even as she held tighter to him.

"Hmm," he hummed against her skin, felt her shiver and released her from his mouth, angling his head up to look in her eyes, eyes that were warm and molten as they peered back at him. "Your perfect tits distracted me," he told her matter-of-factly, a lopsided grin breaking out over his face.

"You're incorrigible," she laughed dryly, shaking her head.

"Is that good or bad?" he asked, feigning seriousness and making her laugh a little harder.

"You really should go."

"Yeah, probably." Cupping the back of her head, he covered her mouth with his, sweeping his tongue easily inside. Her arms slithered around his neck and he deftly flipped her onto her back, not breaking the kiss that she eagerly returned. She moaned softly, hitching a leg high up on his hip and he suddenly pulled back, smirking at her stunned expression. "Gotta go, Berry," he said rakishly, climbing off her and out of bed.

"Now who's the tease?" she asked glibly, making him chuckle. She rolled to her side and propped her head up on her hand, watching him grab his clothes and pull them on. His body made her mouth water. The way it looked and moved, the way it felt beneath her fingers, the weight of it pressed down against hers. She mentally scolded herself because that line of thinking was definitely not conducive for _not_ having sex with him again. When he tugged his shirt on, she sat up and got out of bed, finding her robe on the floor.

"Your body is fucking smokin', Rachel," he said hoarsely, watching her move lithely through her darkened bedroom, slipping green silk over her compact frame. The flirty smile she shot back made him grin wickedly.

"That's funny—I was just thinking the same about yours," she smiled fully, tying the belt around her waist. "Come on, fireman, I'll walk you out."

She unlocked the door, but his hand against it kept her from opening it. He pulled her up on her tiptoes and dropped heated lips to her, kissing her soundly. Gently releasing her, he opened the door and walked out into the hallway. "Night, Berry," he smirked.

Rachel's lips twitched and she smoothed her hair back behind one ear. "Goodnight."

"Don't forget about the rain check. I'll be calling that in very soon." With one last leering glance, he strolled out of sight.

Rachel shut the door and leaned back against it, expelling a long, slow breath as a smile tugged at her lips.

* * *

It was cold, gray and blustery Tuesday morning as Rachel walked down the crowded sidewalk on her way to breakfast. But the weather was no match for her mood. She had an extra spring in her step and a smile on her face. Attributing a tremendous portion of the good mood to the amazing sex she'd been having with a certain tall, dark and sexy fireman, the remainder of that mood was because of the blonde up ahead.

"Hi, Fabs," Rachel called brightly, seeing her friend on the sidewalk outside the bakery.

"Hey, Ber Ber," Quinn answered, a beaming smile on her pretty face.

Rachel laughed. "You haven't used that one in a while."

Quinn shrugged and looked at her friend, studying her closely. "You seem awfully chipper today," she said finally.

"I got a good night's sleep, there's snow on the ground and I get to have a girls' day with my best friend. What's not to be happy about? Oh, and the best part? There's a huge leak in the ceiling of the theater and that caused a lot more damage than they initially thought, so I am now off work until—are you ready for this—_Saturday_!"

"Woo hoo!" Quinn loudly squealed, ignoring looks of the other members in the line as she and Rachel excitedly jumped up and down. "Good for you, Rach, you need a break. Now we don't have to settle just for a mani/pedi. We can spend the whole day at the spa."

A sneaky smile curled over Rachel's lips. "My thoughts exactly. That's why I already called ahead and booked massages and facials, too. I made appointments for Kurt, too. Where is he?"

"He's meeting us at the spa. You know how he feels about baked goods," Quinn said, rolling her eyes, moving forward as the line shifted. "Four days off…what are you gonna do with yourself?"

She knew what she wanted to be doing, or rather _whom_, but she hadn't heard from him yet. "Not sure," she answered honestly. "Relax, probably. Go to the movies. I don't know—we'll see where the wind takes me." _Hopefully tangled in the sheets with Puck._

"Sounds good to me. What are you going to get? I can't decide between a raisin bagel and a cherry cheese Danish." Feeling a strong pair of arms come around her waist, she startled until she heard the familiar voice whisper _Hey, baby_ in her ear. "Hey yourself, Finn," she greeted, leaning back against him, tipping her head up for a kiss.

Rachel glanced over her shoulder and, just as if merely _thinking_ his name seconds ago conjured his appearance, looked directly into very familiar and very impish hazel eyes. _Shit. What if he says something to Quinn? He'd probably already told Finn. Shit. Shit. Shit._

"Hey, Berry," he said lazily, even as his eyes danced with wild amusement. He ran his eyes up and down her body slowly, smirking wickedly when they landed on her annoyed expression and narrowed eyes.

"Puck," she greeted casually. Well, as casually as she could manage seeing the way they spent a good portion of the weekend. He was still in his uniform and that _certainly_ didn't help the whole _act natural_ vibe she was going for.

"Hi, Puck," Quinn said brightly, linking her fingers with Finn's.

"Sup, Blondie?" he asked with a careless nod of his head. He crossed his arms over his chest and shifted his eyes back towards Rachel, who was now staring straight ahead and ignoring him. He bit back a laugh.

"What are you two pretty ladies up to today?" Finn asked, ever the gentleman.

"A whole day at the spa," Quinn informed him. "We were just going to get our nails done, but Rachel's got the rest of the week off work, so she's a lady of leisure now."

"How'd you swing that, Smalls?" Puck asked, his brows arched when she looked back.

"A pipe burst in the ceiling and there's a lot of damage to be repaired before the theater is able to reopen."

"That's great you get some time off," Finn smiled kindly before turning his attention back to Quinn, who asked about his shift at work.

Rachel let Finn and Quinn walk a few steps ahead of them and she felt his hot breath on her ear and his fingers skipping along her spine, marking every last bit of flesh on her body with goose bumps. "Come over tonight," he whispered lowly. There was no question there, she decided, as heat stirred in her low in her gut. It sounded very much like a command and one she was eagerly going to follow. She tilted her eyes up to his and softly nodded her head as a tiny smirk flashed briefly over her lips.

His answering smirk was much more pronounced and fully rakish. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he and Rachel both stared ahead at their friends being cute and flirty with one another as the line gradually moved forward. Unable to take the silence that hung thickly between them, she spoke up. "How was work?" she asked nonchalantly.

"Slow as hell," he said. "Couple of car accidents, a small warehouse fire. Mostly spent the time at the station on cleaning duty and playing _Halo_."

"Hmm, my tax dollars at work," she teased, as they finally reached the door of the packed bakery.

"You got it, baby," he chuckled, winking at her. He held the door open for her and let her shuffle past, brushing his hand over her ass as she did.

She turned heated eyes to his and mouthed S_top it_! Quinn or Finn could have seen that and then her relaxing day at the spa would go right out the window because she would get the third degree instead. Casting eyes ahead to her friend and Finn, she was relieved to see them studying the display case of baked goods. Feeling the silent rumble of laughter in his chest, she elbowed him hard in the gut and moved to stand by Quinn, joining in on the intense scrutiny for potential breakfast foods.

Puck read the menu, nearly busting a gut when he read _Deluxe Berry Pie_ as a listed item. Instead, he leaned forward and murmured in her ear again. "Can't wait to have my fill of number four tonight. That's my favorite kind of pie." He stood up and watched the blush creep up her neck and stain her cheeks.

"Next?" the woman behind the counter asked.

"Um," Rachel began, unable to find her words. She could see the arrogant bastard smirking in her peripheral vision. "Cherry Danish, please. Large coffee."

"And for you?" she asked Puck.

"Blueberry muffin and orange juice." He reached for his wallet and pulled out some cash, nudging Rachel. "I got it."

She slanted her gaze to his and smiled softly. "Thanks."

Grabbing her coffee and pastry, she followed Quinn and Finn to a little booth in the back of the bakery. She wedged herself into the available space and slid over to attempt to make room for Puck since Finn and Quinn were smashed together on the other side and canoodling over their pastry. They were nauseatingly cute. He seated his large frame next to her, brushing his entire side against hers in the process and sending tingles through her entire body. Remembering that she was not supposed to be enjoying this, she elbowed him again. "Jesus, Puck, scoot over," she admonished. Smirking, he moved down approximately one inch and took an enormous bite of his muffin. She ate in relative silence, losing herself in thoughts of what tonight would hold, occasionally interjecting when Finn or Quinn would actually draw themselves out of their own adorable little world and talk to her or to Puck.

Polishing off his orange juice, Puck eased out of the booth. "I gotta go crash," he told the group. "See you guys around."

"Thanks for breakfast," Rachel smiled politely.

"Don't mention it," he shrugged.

"You two are nauseating," he grumbled to Finn and Quinn, smirking when they both gave him shitty looks. "Jesus, I'm kidding. See ya, 'round." With a little salute to Rachel, he strode away and pushed out of the exit.

Rachel looked down at the table and saw his phone. Biting back a smile, she looked up to the other two at the table. "Oh, Puck forgot his phone. I bet I can catch him. Be right back." Grabbing the object, she slid out of the booth and walked briskly for the door.

He wasn't hard to find. She found him leaned casually against the brick wall of the next building over, his arms folded across his chest, waiting expectantly. He shot her a slow grin as she approached. "You're a smart girl, Rachel," he murmured as she handed him the phone.

"I need to get back," was her response.

"My place. Nine o'clock."

She flashed him a coy smile, her dimples winking. "I'll be there." Turning back towards the bakery, he grabbed her elbow and pulled her back.

"Ah-ah, not so fast," he told her.

"Puck—" she began, but was cut off by his lips on hers, his fingers kneading firmly into the back of her neck. She felt her head start to swim and reluctantly pushed him away. "Go get some sleep, Puck," she grinned, "I'll see you tonight." She lifted a hand and hurried away.

He watched her go and smirked to himself, deciding he really should get some sleep now because he didn't expect any tonight.

* * *

She knocked at 9:15. Grinning, he rose off the couch and took a long pull off the beer in his hand as he walked to the door and opened it. "Hi," he greeted slowly.

"Hi," she said back.

Puck moved back and gestured for her to come inside. "New coat?" he asked as she slowly brushed by, noting the absence of her red coat in favor of a long white one. She smelled fucking amazing—seductive and sexy, and looked even better. It nearly made him pant after her.

"Nope," she answered easily, rounding towards him. When he moved to kiss her, she held up a hand and stopped him. "We need to get a few things straight between us before we continue."

He barked out a dry laugh and shook his head. He wasn't too sure he was going to like this. "Okay. Do you want to take your coat off first?"

"No, I'd rather just get this cleared up and maybe I'll stay."

Puck frowned; he really fucking didn't like where this was going. "Well, go on then," he bit out gruffly, pounding the rest of his beer.

"We're friends, right?" she asked, tilting her head and looking up at him, her eyelashes fluttering slightly.

His lips twitched over the top of his bottle. "Yeah, I'd say we're pretty good friends at this point, Berry," he drawled.

"And we're both consenting adults who happen to be amazing in bed together." It was more of a statement rather than a question.

He arched a brow and quirked one side of his mouth up into a lopsided leer. "Oh, I definitely agree," he said darkly.

"I want you to know that I'm not looking for anything more than that. I don't _want_ anything more than that."

"Go on," he prompted, thinking that Rachel Berry could quite possibly be the coolest chick in existence.

"Look, I don't see this sexual chemistry between us fading anytime soon, so I think we should continue this until we stop having fun. When one of us stops having fun, we walk away, no harm, no foul."

"Just like that?" he asked.

"Just like that," she nodded.

No longer possibly the coolest chick in existence, he decided. She _was_ the coolest. "I like it, Rachel. You gonna stay now?"

She grinned. "One more thing." His response was another quirked brow. "I want to keep this just between us and I especially don't want Quinn, Finn or Kurt to find out. Their interference would take some of the fun away and I don't want that."

He stepped towards her, slowly bridging the gap. "Your dirty little secret, huh, Berry?" he whispered hoarsely, twirling a lock of dark hair around his finger, looking down into mischievous brown eyes. She nodded again. "That's fucking hot. I'm game." Her answering smile was slow and sexy and made his blood swim south. "Are we agreed now so I can get your clothes off?"

Rachel gave a throaty little laugh as she took a step back and undid the buttons on her coat. "I think we are." She slowly peeled back her coat, letting it slip to the floor as his eyes went wide and his jaw fell open.

Puck's heart thundered loudly in his ears as his eyes took in the matching black lace bra and garter, complete with black thigh highs and stilettos he hadn't bothered to notice until now. Her golden skin glowed in the low lighting of his apartment and he was _pretty sure_ his tongue was hanging out of his mouth from how utterly delectable she looked. He was _absolutely sure_, however, that his dick was already rock hard and straining uncomfortably against his zipper. She arched a questioning brow, a come-hither smile on her lips. He set the bottle down on little table by the door and stalked towards her. "Fuck, Rachel—I called you smart earlier, but I think you just might be an evil genius," he told her, running broad hands over lace covered hips and pulling her intimately against his arousal.

Her arms looped around his shoulders and she nipped along his jaw while his hands continued roaming over her ass. "Thank you, Puck," she murmured against his mouth. "I think we've talked enough for a while—don't you?" She looked up under lowered lashes.

"Fuck yes," he muttered and crushed his lips to hers.

* * *

Reviews are love. Do you like the route Puck and Rachel are taking with their "relationship?" Trust me, I'm a big ol' sucker for romance and happy endings, but these two just aren't there yet. Hang in there if that's what you're hoping to see. I'm sure these two will get around to that eventually. But won't it be fun to just watch them navigate these sexy waters for a while?

Thanks for reading! :)


	13. Pictures of You

**A/N: **Thanks so much for all of the reviews and story alerts. You are wonderful! I'm not sure what I thought the response would be exactly to Puck and Rachel being friends with benefits, but you're all in, evidently, so...awesome. :) They will definitely start showing signs of being more, but you just need to hang tight. It's a long road. Hee!

This chapter is a little shorter, but it was a good stopping point and I'm going to be really busy this week and wasn't sure when the update would be out if I didn't split this up.

Thanks to Mandy!

* * *

Dick Clark once said "Music is the soundtrack of your life." And for Rachel Berry, there weren't any words truer than those.

Ever since she was a little girl, she loved how there was a song or piece of music perfectly suited for every situation or mood, almost as if the lyrics had been penned and the music composed right on the spot specifically for her. Playlists were her forte and from a very early age she'd mastered the art of creating mixed tapes (Yeah, remember those things?) and burning CDs, selecting the songs, choosing the absolute perfect order in which those songs would play. And now, thanks to the invention of the iPod, her playlist making skills had been sharpened and honed even further. (Thank you, Steve Jobs.)

Over the years she'd created mixes and playlists for nearly every occasion imaginable—happy moods, sad moods, first love, lost love, vacations, road trips, summertime, snow time, rainy days, days that end in Y, pool parties, workouts, study sessions, graduations—you name it, and chances are she'd made a play list (or five) for it.

She wasn't a music _snob_ by any means (she was an _enthusiast)_, even though people often assumed she must be with her chosen career and extensive background. But it was quite the contrary. In her mind, Jay Z's _Big Pimpin'_ fit a certain mood just as well as Mozart fit another. If she were to make a playlist right now to span the last couple of weeks in her life, there wouldn't be anything classical (or even _classy_) on it whatsoever. She was _pretty sure_ it would sound an awful lot like the set list at a strip club. At the very least it would be Marvin Gaye's _Let's Get it On_ and Nine Inch Nails' _Closer_ repeated over and over and _over _again with maybe a sprinkling of George Michael's _I Want Your Sex _thrown in for good measure.

These were the thoughts that flitted through her mind one afternoon as he laid her back against the cushions of her couch, his lips teasing her neck and his hand inching under the hem of her cashmere sweater to stroke calloused fingers along her ribcage. A delicious shiver coursed through her, making her hum softly in the back of her throat. She skimmed fingertips over broad shoulders and muscled biceps, the softness of his Henley shirt beneath her touch a stark disparity to the strength of his body. He nipped and licked at the sensitive spot just below her ear, making her arch and press her body closer to his, her denim clad legs slinking effortlessly around his hips.

She rather felt like a horny teenager. Though she'd certainly never had anyone this hot or this skilled kissing her when she'd actually _been_ a teenager. Nor had she done even a fifth of what she and Puck had managed to in a couple of weeks. Still, _horny_ was totally applicable, and the newly crafted playlist sounded in her head again and she felt her lips twitch involuntarily.

"What's that look for?" Puck murmured deeply, staring down at the playful smirk on her lips. His hand crept higher and cupped her lace-covered breast, his own smirk spreading on his face when he rolled her nipple between his thumb and finger and she moaned. Her big brown eyes fluttered open, dancing with a mixture of amusement and arousal as she looked back at him. He raised one eyebrow in question.

"Nothing," she said quietly, her lips twitching again. "Just got a song stuck in my head."

Puck rolled his eyes. "Berry, if you tell me that you're hearing fucking Babs while your tit's in my hand, my junk is gonna fall off," he bit out gruffly.

A loud giggle tore from her lips and she shook her head, stroking a hand down the back of his neck. "It's not Barbra." She pulled his head down and caught his bottom lip between hers, nibbling on it gently. "Definitely more risqué than Barbra," she murmured between kisses.

"Easy E's _Gimme That Nut_?" he teased, shoving the soft sweater up to expose her boobs. (Royal blue lace today. _Hot._)

"_Closer_," she laughed, pressing her lips against his stubbly cheek.

"Snoop Dogg?" he asked before mouthing a lacy peak.

"No, _Closer_…by Nine Inch Nails," Rachel said breathlessly, dipping her fingers into the waistband of his jeans.

Puck lifted his head and grinned impishly, the lyrics now looping through his mind. "Damn, that's hot, Berry. _You're hot_." He sat up, pulling her with him and smoothed her sweater up and off her body.

Grinning, she reached for the hem of his shirt and tossed it to the floor with hers. "So are you going to?" she asked, peering up mischievously at him, fingers brushing lightly over the downy hair on his chest.

"Fuck you like an animal? Hell yes," he nearly growled, pushing her back against the cushions and reaching for the button of her jeans, making her laugh.

"Good," she grinned again, her hands on his belt. There were just so many wonderful benefits to their _friends with benefits_ situation, she decided.

A loud, distinctive knock sounded on the door and they both froze, Rachel's eyes going wide as saucers.

"Ignore it," was his whispered groan, dropping his head to kiss her.

The knock sounded again, this time more insistent. "Divalicious, open up. I swear. Don't make me search for my key," Kurt called testily.

"Shit," she whispered heatedly, scrambling to zip up her jeans and pull her sweater back on. "It's Kurt." Plans for him to come over today had vacated her brain the second Puck's lewd text message arrived. "Hide!" she told Puck, tossing his shirt at his head. He held up his hands questioningly and she pointed to her room.

He walked as fast as his raging boner would allow, scowling and cursing at her friend's unknowing, yet utterly successful, cockblock. Rachel tossed his shoes and his coat past him into her room. "Sorry," she whispered, shoving him along. "Please be quiet. I'll get rid of him as soon as I can." With an apologetic smile, she closed her bedroom door and hurried towards the front door, doing a quick scan to make sure there weren't any signs of Puck in the living room. After a check in the mirror of her own appearance, she opened the door to see her best friend loaded down with garment bags and a less than amused pout on his face. "Hi," Rachel said groggily.

"Sweet Mariah Carey—finally," he clipped, shoving one of the bags at her as he flounced into the apartment. "What took you so long?"

"Sorry, K, I was in my room taking a nap and I didn't hear you knocking," she smoothly lied, rubbing her eyes for added effect.

Kurt turned and regarded her. "Hmm," he sniffed. "And here I was hoping your rumpled appearance was from something fun—like you taking my advice about Puck," he said dryly.

Kurt's sneer was unnerving and a little tingle shot up her spine and made the hair on the back of her neck stand at attention. But he couldn't possibly know. Could he? No, there was no way. She and Puck hadn't interacted with anyone from the group together since that morning at the bakery and she hadn't breathed _a word_ about anything remotely related to their activities. "Well, my friend, I hate to disappoint you, but I haven't taken, nor will I _be_ taking, your advice in regards the fireman." She held her gaze level with his, determined not to give herself away. If Kurt saw a flicker of, well, _anything_, he would doggedly pursue that until he knew absolutely _everything_ and she couldn't let that happen. His eyes narrowed and for a moment she was afraid.

"Great," he rolled his eyes. "We'll have to find someone else to clean the bats out of your belfry soon because _damn, _girlfriend…it's been way too long. And you're way too bitchy lately."

Rachel's jaw dropped, mildly offended. "Says the man whose picture is listed beneath the word in the dictionary. If you've come over only to insult me, you can go and I'll get back to my nap." She folded her arms over her chest in a huff.

"Not until we pick out _the_ coat for the parade. It's next week. And I've brought some utterly fantabulous choices with me that are _to die for_, Divalicious. Shall we hang these up in your room and get started?"

"No," she said a little too quickly. _Fucking smooth, Rachel_. "My room's a disaster," she added. "I know how you hate my messes. Let's just look out here."

"Very well," he sighed, unzipping one of the garment bags. "Feast your eyes on these little beauties."

* * *

Puck stood listening at the door, catching every word of their conversation and he made a mental note to ask her about a few things once they were alone—and after they'd fucked of course, because goddamn—he was particularly curious about Kurt's advice to her about him. He heard them yapping away about goddamn _coats_ to wear when they went to the fucking Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade next week. Seriously? He wasn't getting his dick wet right now because of fucking _coats_? Fucking Kurt and his fucking fashion.

Taking advantage of time alone in her room, he looked around and picked things up at random for closer inspection. There was a framed picture of Rachel, Quinn and Kurt lounging in beach chairs sipping umbrella drinks. Kurt had on the biggest hat he'd ever fucking seen (on anyone…ever) and Rachel was super tan (hot) and wearing a tiny yellow bikini (even hotter). Next, he picked up one of the many perfume bottles on the dresser and smelled it. It was the same scent she'd worn the night she'd gotten drunk and kissed him for the first time—clean and citrusy. Smirking, he set it back down and spotted another framed picture of Rachel with her arms wrapped around two older men, beaming brightly at the camera. He studied that one for a curious moment before moving on to other items in her room. Perusing the items on a bookshelf, he saw yearbooks and photo albums. _Oh yeah. Definitely._ Grinning, he helped himself to a few and plopped down carelessly on her bed and flipped one open. "Let's see what you were like in high school, Berry," he mused.

* * *

Rachel dutifully tried on all of the coats, which really were beautiful. Most of them were Queen K designs and Quinn and Kurt had outdone themselves. "I can't decide," she admitted truthfully. "They're all gorgeous, Kurt. Pick your favorite two."

Kurt tilted his head to the side, and motioned for her to turn. "No," he shook his head, dismissing the camel colored coat. "Try the houndstooth again," he told her. "I say that one or the cream trapeze coat with the black buttons."

"Those are my favorites, too," she said, shooting him a friendly smile.

"You'll look fabulous," he told her, packing up the rejected coats. "Okay, darling, I must be off. You can get back to whatever you were doing. Kiss, kiss," he trilled, fluttering his fingers at her while heading for the door.

"Bye, honey," Rachel waved. "Thanks again for the coats."

"Oh, sweetie, my pleasure. Drinks soon," he ordered over his shoulder and breezed out of sight.

With a sigh of relief, she closed the door and locked it behind her, hurrying to pick up where they'd left off. She turned the knob and opened the door to her room, finding Puck lying back against the pillows, snickering as he thumbed through her senior yearbook. "By all means, Puck, help yourself to my things," Rachel mused, padding over to the bed and crawling up to kneel beside him.

Puck lowered the book in his hands and regarded her over the top of it, a smirk stretching over his full lips. "Berry—this is fucking _gold_," he laughed, turning his attention back to the page he was perusing when she walked in. "Nice school girl uniform." He flipped through until he found her senior picture and her list of activities. She was gorgeous even then, he thought, her teenage self smiling out at him. "Oh, here we go. Rachel Berry—National Honor Society, Glee Club, Spanish Club, Drama Club, Student Council…well, Smalls, at least you were a _hot nerd_…Cheerleading Team…" he trailed off, lowering the book again. "Whoa, whoa, whoa—cheerleader? Where's _that_ picture?" he asked, wagging his brows.

Rachel rolled her eyes and watched in amusement as he furiously turned the pages, smirking at his little _aha _and the wolf whistle he let out when he found what he was looking for.

"Fucking hell, look at you," he said, staring at the close-up photo of her and Quinn down in the corner, with their matching blue and gold uniforms and twin braids down the backs of their heads. She had blue paw print on her cheek and a million watt smile on her face, her dimples flashing all over the place. "No offense, but you don't strike me as a cheerleader type—you look hot as fuck though."

"Your vocabulary is overwhelming, Puck," she said dryly. "Anyway, I could dance, and Quinn coerced me into joining the team. She needed my skills to help the squad win some competitions. I liked that part of it a lot. The _rah-rah-sis-boom-bah_ wasn't my favorite."

"We played your school in sports all the time. You probably drooled over my amazing athletic prowess and general sexiness even back then, Berry. I was a stud."

"It's a wonder you haven't choked to death on your ego before, Puck," she said sarcastically.

"Whatever," he muttered. "I was, and am still, a badass motherfucker." He slapped the book closed and tossed it aside. "I even had a sweet Mohawk. Tell me that shit wasn't badass."

"Did you say you had a Mohawk?" she asked, her jaw falling slightly agape.

Puck grinned. "Sure did."

"Oh, my God!" she exclaimed, covering her mouth. "I remember you!" She lightly punched his shoulder. "You broke my boyfriend's nose during a basketball game."

Puck puffed up his chest proudly, his lips twitching into a sneer. "See, Berry? _Badass_. I think I vaguely remember getting ejected from that game," he laughed.

"I hated you and your ridiculous haircut at the time, but the next night when I found him seeking comfort in the school slut, I kind of wanted to throw you a party," she smiled.

He smirked. "You're welcome."

"Your haircut was still asinine," she informed him.

"Whatever," he shrugged, completely unoffended. "So, Rach, what advice did Kurt give you about me that you ignored?" he asked, fixing her with a curious look.

Rachel's lips pursed into a playful smile. "I didn't ignore it, but per our arrangement, he can't know that." Her smile grew as the realization dawned across his face.

"Kurt told you to fuck me?" he asked, shocked. "Guess that makes up for the cockblock this afternoon about coats. Seriously, what the blue dilly fuck is so important about what coat you wear to watch the goddamn Macy's parade?"

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and looked shyly at him. "I'm going to be _in_ the parade actually. Kurt was helping me decide what would look best on camera."

The surprises with her didn't stop. "Holy shit! Really?"

Rachel nodded lightly. "Yes, Alice, my co-star, and I are singing on the Broadway float."

"Well, damn, Berry, that's pretty fucking cool," he grinned. "Puckerone—boning a celebrity. I dig it." Rachel's eyes rolled _again _and he chuckled, springing forward and tackling her to the mattress, pinning her arms overhead. He smirked when the heat sparked in her eyes, her lashes lowering marginally. Lowering his head, he planted a kiss to her lips. "You going to Quinn's Thanksgiving thing after the parade?"

Rachel's lips twisted up. "I believe it's called dinner, Puck. But yes, I'll be there. You?" She kissed the underside of his jaw. "Quinn told me she invited you. Color me surprised."

"Blondie's tolerating me for Finn's sake, but I love turkey, so I'll be there. And it'll give me a chance to watch you try and keep your hands off me for a few hours. Sounds highly entertaining if you ask me," he drawled.

"Well, I don't have to keep them to myself now, so why don't you let me have them back and I'll put them to good use?" she smiled wickedly.

"Totally hot, Berry," he grinned, releasing her hands.

* * *

Puck had just gotten home from a grueling night on the job and was looking forward to several hours of uninterrupted sleep before going over to Quinn's for Thanksgiving dinner. His stomach growled and he poured himself a huge bowl of Cap'n Crunch and plopped down on the couch, switching on the television. The parade was on and he hit record so he could watch Rachel later. (_Whatever, okay?_ The chick he was banging on the regular was performing on TV. That shit was awesome.) Al Roker's enthusiasm and Meredith Viera's twatty face annoyed him instantly as he shoveled the cereal into his mouth. He was now supremely glad he didn't have to suffer through how fucking tall Snoopy was and could just fast forward through this shit later, watch Rachel and call it a damn day. Unlacing his boots and toeing them off, he stripped off his work clothes and fell face down against the couch, sleep taking hold soon after.

Sometime later, his phone blared to life on the coffee table, rousing him from his slumber. He opened one bleary eye and groaned. Picking up the annoying object, he barked a gruff "What, woman?"

"Watch your smart mouth, Noah Puckerman," Rose Puckerman snapped authoritatively. "And turn on the TV. That lovely and talented Jewish girl from _Chicago_ is on the parade. Noah, have you asked her out yet? Oh, just listen to her."

Puck rolled his eyes and sat up on the couch, rubbing his tired eyes. "I can't listen, Ma! You're yapping in my goddamn ear."

"Noah Ishmael Puckerman, so help me, I will reach through this phone and slap you back to Ohio!"

The three-name call made him wince and he turned the TV on, instantly seeing Rachel's face on the screen beside her blonde co-star as they sang _It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year_. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Are you watching?"

"Yes, Ma!" _Fuck!_

"She has such a wonderful voice. Though I do wonder why she couldn't sing a Hanukkah song. She is _Jewish._"

"Because they all suck," he muttered, though he briefly imagined her singing _The Hanukkah Song_ by Adam Sandler and stifled a snort.

"Noah!"

"Rose! You're missing the song by talking."

They sat quietly on the phone for the remainder of the song. He could practically hear the wheels turning in her head all the way from motherfucking _Lima_. She sure as shit couldn't know what was going on between him and Rachel. _Rachel._ He knew that he probably shouldn't even _think _her name lest he wanted his mother to zero in on his brainwaves with her Kreskin-like powers. But still, she looked adorable bundled up in her black and white coat with a red hat on her head, smiling and waving to the crowd as the camera cut away to commercial.

"Happy Thanksgiving, Mama," he told her warmly, switching the TV off again.

"Thank you, Noah. Happy Thanksgiving to you. What are your plans for today? I wish you could've come home this year."

"Me, too," he agreed. "Next year. You and Sarah going to Aunt Dinah's today?"

"Yes. I've been baking pies for two days. What are your plans? You're not staying home alone are you?"

He smiled. "No, Ma, I'm going with Finn to…" he trailed off. _Shit._

"Going with Finn where, Noah?" Rose pressed.

"To his girlfriend's apartment for dinner," he finished. Jesus God. _Here it comes._

"Quinn? That lovely girl who is friends with Jewish Rachel?" (That was her name now. _Jewish Rachel._) "Oh, are you and Rachel spending Thanksgiving together, Noah?" she asked hopefully.

"Ma, please. I dunno what she's doing, I'm not her keeper. I got invited by my best friend to eat some good food and I'm going to go do that and then watch football."

"Noah—"

"I'm beat, Ma. I just got off work two hours ago. Can your favorite and best looking child please get some sleep?"

"Of course, though I love you both equally and you're both gorgeous. Happy Thanksgiving, sweetie."

"Happy Thanksgiving, Ma. Love you."

"I love you, Noah. And ask Rachel out," she called as the line went dead.

Puck shook his head and laid back down, burying his head under the pillow.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed this. Reviews = love!


	14. Don't Rain on My Parade

**A/N: **Thank you all SO much for the reviews for the last chapter. I feel so bad b/c I didn't get to respond to all of them like I normally do. :( Sorry, guys. Please know how super appreciative I am for every single review. Yeah, so this chapter is LONG. But, it all just seemed to fit, so I hope you enjoy the ride. Definite progression in this chapter.

A special thanks to Mandy, as always, for being super-dee-duper awesome. Also, to Rachel and Jenna. Mwah!

* * *

"There's our little starlet," Quinn warmly greeted, looking up from the sink where she was peeling potatoes when Rachel walked into the spacious kitchen. "You looked and sounded fantastic, Rach!"

"Thank you, Quinn," Rachel beamed, setting down the carrier of pies she'd brought with her. She wrapped her arms around her friend for a quick hug. "Happy Thanksgiving." She opened a cabinet and grabbed an apron. "What do you need help with?"

"Can you get started on the dressing? The bread is already dried out. It's in that bowl over there. I hope we have enough food," Quinn said, looking nervously around the kitchen.

Rachel snorted out a laugh. She was fairly certain there was enough food to feed two armies. "I think we'll be okay, Fabs."

"Well, Finn eats a ton and I would assume Puck does as well," she shrugged. "And I've seen you eat Thanksgiving dinner before, so I should probably send you back to the market for another sack of potatoes." Quinn made a silly face and Rachel laughed.

"Hardee har," Rachel snapped, without heat. She put a gigantic skillet on the stove and added three sticks of butter. The smells in the kitchen were heavenly and she couldn't wait to tear into some food later. She methodically chopped onions and stalks of celery, adding them to the pan. "What time is everyone else getting here?"

Quinn glanced at the large clock mounted on the wall. "Hard telling with them. Any time really. Are you going to be okay with Puck here today?"

Rachel continued sautéing vegetables and nodded casually, even as her blood sang just hearing his name mentioned. "I already told you it's not a problem."

"I know you did," Quinn evenly responded, looking up from potato duty. "I don't know what came over me, but when Finn said Puck wasn't working and he wasn't going home for the holidays, I just invited him over. No one should be alone during the holidays. Even that Neanderthal," she added with a sigh.

A smile lit across Rachel's face. "You're softening," she teased. "Seems love agrees with you, my friend." She lifted her head met her friend's eyes.

"We're not—" she began, but the arch of Rachel's eyebrow stopped her. With color flooding her cheeks, she blurted, "I am one hundred percent, completely and ridiculously in love with Finn Hudson."

She pressed a hand to her chest. "Sweetie, that's amazing!" Rachel gushed.

Quinn shook her head, started pacing around the kitchen. "It's insane! We've only been together for a couple of months. How can I already be in love with him? I'm not this person. I make fun of the people that are totally ass over teakettle after a few months and look at me now! _I'm one of them_," she cried, gesticulating wildly.

Rachel opened a cabinet and pulled out two wineglasses, pouring them each a full glass of white. Handing one to Quinn, she looked at her encouragingly. "But?"

"He's it for me. I _know_ it…I _feel _it. It's just—he's just—_everything_," she finished, tilting the glass to her lips and drinking deep. Her eyes brimmed with tears and a few spilled over as she started a hybrid of hysterical laughing and sobbing.

"Aw, honey," Rachel cooed, setting down her glass to wrap her friend in a hug. "I'm so happy for you," she murmured against her blonde head. And she was really and truly happy for her best friend. Her own eyes stung and went blurry with unshed tears. "Have you told him how you feel?"

"N-n-noooo!" she cried.

Rachel pressed her lips together to stifle the giggle that bubbled up in her throat. "Fabs, you should tell him. I'm willing to bet anything that he feels the same way about you."

Quinn lifted her head from Rachel's shoulder and glanced up into reassuring brown eyes. "You think so?" she sniffled.

Puck followed Finn through Quinn's apartment and his mouth instantly watered. His belly was going to be nice and happy later and for that, he felt very thankful. He carried the case of beer and bottle of wine he'd brought (hey, he wasn't raised in a barn no matter how many times he'd been accused) into the kitchen and ran straight into Finn's back when the taller man stopped abruptly. "Jesus, Finn. Been walking long?" He looked around his tall frame and saw Quinn and Rachel hugging each other and crying. "The fuck are they crying for?" he muttered loud enough for Finn to hear.

"Quinn?" Finn began carefully. "You okay, babe?"

Her head shot up and her terrified gaze sought comfort in Rachel's warm and reassuring smile. She nodded slightly and brushed away the tears. With one last _you can do it_ from her friend, Quinn went and stood before her boyfriend, looking way up to meet his kind eyes. "We need to talk," she smiled, lacing her fingers through his and leading him out of the kitchen.

Embarrassed that she had tears in her eyes, Rachel tried to discreetly wipe them away with the back of her hand before turning and offering Puck a watery smile.

His brows knit together as his mind ran over possible reasons for the tears. "Jesus, Quinn's not knocked up is she?" he asked.

Rachel barked out an incredulous laugh. "What? No!" she said, shaking her head adamantly.

Puck expelled a breath and bridged the gap between them, reaching out the pad of his thumb to gently wipe away a stray tear on her cheek. "What's with the waterworks?"

"Nothing. Quinn and I were just having a total girl moment. All's well." The dimple on her chin winked when she flashed him a genuine smile. "Hi," she started over. "Happy Thanksgiving."

He shook his head, deciding that he'd never in ten zillion years understand teary women. But seeing as the tears weren't his fault and she was now smiling and wishing him _Happy Thanksgiving_, he damn well knew better than to question it. "Happy Thanksgiving," he smirked. Looking over his shoulder and seeing no one, he decided to take advantage of their moment of privacy. He leaned down and captured her lips with his, savoring their sweet warmth for a brief moment. The stern, warning look she attempted when he stood to his full height made him chuckle.

"We need to be careful," she whispered heatedly. The admonition quickly fell away when those full, sexy lips of his quirked into a lopsided grin and it made her feel tingly and warm all over. "Seriously," she added, smirking this time. Turning her attention to the bottle of wine in his hand she lifted her eyes to his and arched a brow.

"My mama raised me right," he laughed, handing her the bottle.

A crafty smile stretched over her pout. "And how _is_ your mother? I trust our wedding plans are progressing nicely," she teased, turning her attention back to the pots on the stove.

He leaned against the counter and smirked down at her, shaking his head and muttering something under his breath about her being evil. "Your name is now _Jewish Rachel_ just so you know. The ol' yenta called me this morning to natter on about seeing you in the parade. She thought you were wonderful—though not as wonderful as you could have been had you sang a Jewish song."

Rachel laughed and picked up her glass of wine. "You shouldn't talk about your mother that way."

"Whatever. She's bat shit crazy. I'm sure you have a nice normal mother. Me, I've got Rose Puckerman." He noticed the smile on her face falter and a hint of sadness ghost in those brown eyes of hers. _Shit._

"I don't have a mother," she told him simply.

"Shit. I'm sorry," he offered lamely," running a hand over the back of his head.

Her smile returned and she shifted to look at him. "Don't be. That's just a fact of my life—I don't have a mother and I never have. Well, I mean she gave birth to me of course, but she never took care of me outside the womb. I have two amazing dads though."

Puck's brows furrowed together. "You have two…" then he remembered the picture in her room. Oh. _Oooooh._ "Hey, right on," he shrugged. "That's two more than I've got," he told her flippantly, scratching his eyebrow and grabbing a beer.

The corners of her mouth turned down as she stared at his back. "I'm—"

"Don't say sorry," he told her flatly, turning back towards her. "Because I'm not. Mitch Puckerman is a worthless piece of shit that was a drunk on the good days and liked to slap his wife and kids around on the bad. I'm not the least bit sorry dear old Dad's not around anymore." The muscles in his jaw clenched tightly and he wasn't sure why the hell that had just come pouring out. He hadn't talked or thought about his sperm donor in a long time.

"Noah," Rachel said softly, laying her hand gently on his arm.

The use of his first name hadn't gone unheard. If it wasn't used under these circumstances, he might have enjoyed the sound of it on her lips. "Rachel, _seriously, _he's not worth the oxygen," he insisted. He brought the can to his lips and took a big gulp, ending his participation in this particular conversation.

With a slight nod, she turned her attention back to cooking. She knew better than to press when family issues were involved.

"And what's with the _Noah_ business?" he asked lightly, leaning back against the counter again.

Deflection it is, she thought, her lips twitching from his statement. She slanted her eyes towards the door before sliding them back in his direction. "I can't call you _Noah_?" she asked coyly. His full lips pursed, making the sexy chin dimple pop. Her head cocked to the side and she looked up at him under lowered lashes. "You put your dick in me on a regular basis—I think I can use your given name from time to time." She smiled kittenishly when his eyebrow quirked up in surprise. Light and fun—those were their terms—and so far, they'd served them both very, very well. He chuckled and twisted a lock of long, dark hair around his finger briefly, bringing the beer to his lips once again, not taking his eyes off hers.

"Touché, _Rachel_."

The front door opened and Kurt's voice called throughout the apartment. Rachel gave Puck one last knowing smile before moving around the kitchen to grab the remaining ingredients for her dish.

"Happy eat yourself into a coma day," Kurt called happily, breezing into the kitchen, his boyfriend, Drew, close behind.

Rachel popped the baking dish into the oven and set the timer. "Happy Thanksgiving!"

Puck nodded at both of the men and muttered a few words before brushing past them on his way to the living room.

Kurt and Drew both angled their heads and watched him go, appreciating that fine male specimen.

"I saw that," Rachel called in a sing-song voice.

"Well, Rach, just because we're happy and committed, doesn't mean we're blind or dead," Drew said with a wry grin, making Rachel chuckle. He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Happy Turkey Day, doll face."

"Same to you, Drewsifer," Rachel said warmly.

"Where's Q?" Kurt asked.

"She and Finn are talking somewhere—probably professing their love to one another," she smiled. "They're so sweet." Rachel gathered all the plates and silverware that she needed and headed for the dining room.

Kurt waited until she was out of earshot and gave Drew a pointed look. "Well?"

Drew shook his head as he poured them each a glass of wine. "I think you're reaching—I don't see it."

"Pfft! I stand by what I told you last week," he said, lowering his voice. "Rachel and Puck are _totally _doing it. I'm now 99% sure."

Laughing, he took a sip of his wine, handed a glass to Kurt. "Okay, you've now gone up two percentage points from last week. What brought that on?"

"His cologne," he nodded seriously. Drew snorted into his glass. "You laugh now, mister sister, but I'm willing to bet my new Gucci loafers that those two are a making the beast with two backs at every available opportunity."

"What does his cologne have to do with it?"

"The cologne he's wearing today? I smelled it on Rachel last week when I was at her apartment. She took forever to open the door and she looked, for lack of a better word, thoroughly _had_, when she finally did."

"Why don't you just ask her? Have you said anything to Quinn?"

Kurt gave his boyfriend his best withering _bitch, please _look. "Of _course not_. Hello! Please keep up." Drew rolled his eyes. "We can't tell Quinn because she still doesn't like Puck much and she would probably talk Rachel into putting a stop to sexing him up. I can't talk to Rachel about it because she's clearly trying to hide this and once light gets shed on it, she'll retreat and possibly miss out on something great."

"Then why are you so hell bent on figuring it out. Why not just let Rachel live her life and stay out of it?"

"It's like you don't know me at all," Kurt sniffed. "Because I'm _helping_—just, you know, in a behind-the-scenes, puppet master kind of way. What's the name of that cute guy in your office that I wanted to fix Rachel up with?"

"Mark?" Drew asked, struggling to follow Kurt's train of thought.

"Yes! Perfect," Kurt exclaimed, clasping his hands together.

"Oh, no—I know that look. What are you up to?" Drew asked hesitantly.

"I'm merely collecting information and testing a few theories. Just follow along at dinner."

* * *

The large dining room table was impeccably and ornately decorated and large dishes of food spanned nearly every inch of available surface. Everyone took a seat and raised a glass in toast of the holiday. Rachel saved Puck, who was seated across from her, for last. He shot her a sexy little smirk before tapping his glass to hers. "Let's eat," she announced, averting his gaze as warmth surged to her cheeks. It was really proving difficult to keep their—_whatever_—a secret.

Conversation and laughter flowed around the table as they ate and Quinn was remarkably more relaxed since she'd told Finn that she loved him. Her happiness multiplied when he told her he felt the same. She felt a tiny bit guilty for rushing off like that and leaving Rachel in charge of fixing the rest of the meal. But, she and Finn had gotten a little carried away after their verbal _I love you_ exchange with some physical expression and they'd lost track of time. She leaned over to Rachel. "Thanks for getting everything finished. I'm really sorry about abandoning you."

Rachel grinned knowingly back at her friend. "No, you're not. And I wouldn't be either if I was in your shoes. I'm really happy for you, Fabs."

"Thanks, Rach. I still can't believe it," she whispered, the bright as sunshine smile lighting up her pretty face.

She felt Puck's foot nudging hers under the table. When she glanced up, she found him fully engaged in a conversation with Drew about the Giants. At first she thought it had been an accident, but when his foot travelled higher up her leg, she should've known that he'd try and mess with her for his own amusement. Well, two could play that game. Slipping out of her shoes, she trailed a bare foot up his jean covered leg until her toes nestled against his crotch. Wiggling them gently, she lifted her fork to her lips and took a big bite of mashed potatoes, her eyes dancing playfully when he looked lazily over at her and arched a brow in warning. They really weren't very good at being inconspicuous today.

"Rachel, darling," Kurt began, noticing the way her head snapped to his quickly like she'd just been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. He quelled the urge to grin.

"Yes, Kurt?"

"Drew has this friend at work, Mark, and we—"

"You," Drew corrected pointedly, wanting to stay the hell out of it.

Kurt stared indolently at his partner and then back at Rachel. "As I was saying, I think Mark would be perfect for you. Why don't we set that up?"

"Oh, that's—that's sweet, Kurt, but no thank you," she said, trying to be polite.

"Come on," Kurt prodded, sparing a glance at Puck, who was leaning back in his chair, seemingly amused by the whole situation. "I showed him your picture and he's _very _interested in meeting you."

"Well, bully for Mark," Rachel said sarcastically, spearing the green beans forcefully with the tines of her fork. She was uncomfortable, to say the least. Puck was watching her interestedly across the table, his lips twisting into a wry smirk; Kurt's eyes were boring intensely into the side of her head. Then Quinn joined in the mix.

"What are we talking about?" she inquired curiously.

"I'm trying to set up Rachel with a guy that works with Drew. His name is Mark; he's 27, super gorgeous, smart, funny, athletic, looks _great_ in a suit and he has season tickets to both the opera _and_ the Giants."

"Rachel, he sounds perfect," Quinn said. "You should give him your number."

"No, I'm good. Thanks," Rachel begged off.

"Do you have a picture?" Quinn asked Kurt. "Maybe a picture would help."

"Mmm hmm," he hummed, grabbing his camera and flipping through his photos. "No, no, no. Oh, here we go. Met him at happy hour last week."

Rachel grudgingly took the camera and looked at the photo. He was a cute guy—seemingly tall, nicely built, crystal blue eyes and light brown hair that was just shaggy enough to be considered fashionable and not unkempt. "Not bad," she shrugged, not daring to look at Puck for fear of giving them away.

"Need your eyes checked, Rachel? He's a little hottie," Quinn exclaimed. "Do it. Go out with him."

"Yes, Rachel, go out with him," Kurt chimed in, noting that Puck was beginning to look a little perturbed.

"I'll think about it," Rachel snapped, inwardly wincing the moment the words were past her lips. "Can we just table this for now? It's Thanksgiving."

"Hmm, fair enough," Kurt said, pleased as punch, this time catching the muscles in Puck's jaw tightening as he stabbed a piece of turkey harder than was necessary. _Excellent. _Mentally, he rubbed his hands together in a Mr. Burns-like fashion.

* * *

Rachel and Quinn were putting the kitchen back to rights after the meal when Puck called out from the living room, "Yo, Berry, your Colts are about to start playing."

"Rachel, I've got this," Quinn said, snatching the dishtowel from her hands. "I know you want to watch the game, so just go. I owe you for finishing up dinner."

Her eyes lit up and smiled gratefully at her friend. "Thanks, Fabs." She never got to watch games live because of work, so this was a rare opportunity. After cutting a slice of pecan pie and adding whipped cream to the top, she hurried to the living room. Finn was sprawled out over the length of one sofa and Puck's frame ate up a large portion of the loveseat. "Scooch," she ordered haughtily, sitting down next to him.

"Maybe if you give me your _pie_," he said lecherously.

She rolled her eyes. "Your lines land like bricks. Mine," she scolded, slapping his hand away when he reached for her plate.

Finn stood up. "I'm going to go help Quinn clean up," he said.

Puck smirked and made a whipped sound, complete with hand motion. He chuckled lowly when Finn flipped him the bird and lumbered away.

"You're an ass," Rachel told him, casting her eyes sideways towards him. She found his careless shrug adorable and held her plate out, offering him some pie. "One bite."

He grinned, and grabbed the fork and shoveled a mammoth bite into his mouth. "Holy fuck this is good," he grunted with his mouth full. "You make this, Smalls?" He swallowed and went for another bite.

"Yes, now go get your own. Oh, the game is starting." She forcefully yanked the plate out of his hands and dug in, her attention focused on her boys in blue.

With an exaggerated sigh, he pushed himself off the couch and strolled into the kitchen, finding Finn and Quinn sucking face and getting extremely hands-y. Deciding against acting like himself and interrupting with a _way to go, bro!_ he grabbed the pie carrier off the counter and fled back to the living room. "Time for us to go, Berry."

"What? Why?" she looked up with a pout.

"Shit is about to get x-rated in the kitchen." He leaned in closer, "how about we go do the same at my place?" He noticed the look on her face and smirked. "After the game is over."

Rachel beamed. "I'll get my coat."

* * *

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" she shouted, jumping to her feet when Peyton connected with Dallas Clark in the end zone. "Number 44, baby!" She plopped back down next to Puck on the couch, nudging him playfully. "Did you see my boyfriend, Dallas, score? Huh? Didja?"

Puck rolled his eyes and chuckled. "You've got serious lady wood for Dallas Clark."

Rachel let out a little moan by way of agreement. "I do. He's thick and juicy."

"He's not a steak, Berry. And he's got a porn 'stache."

She turned her head slowly and regarded him. "Jealous?" she asked impishly.

Puck snorted. "Bitch, please," he tossed back jokingly.

"And it's not a porn 'stache. It's a _goatee_," she corrected primly. "Extra point—good!" she excitedly called, raising her arms straight up in the air before turning and shooting a dimpled smile at him.

Puck shook his head, fighting off his own grin. He had to admit that he was shocked by her knowledge of football. He figured her one of those girls who claimed to like the game but only knew the name of the quarterback. (He'd met many of those girls in his day) The fact that she knew every player, coach, _and_ the types of plays being run was fucking sexy and it impressed the hell out of him.

But then again she was constantly surprising him and keeping him on his toes. And he liked that about her. A lot. He usually didn't get to know any of the girls he slept with and he sure as shit didn't keep them around this long. This _thing _between them was a nice change of pace. Now before you go thinking he'd gone and sprouted lady parts, they were still just friends who fucked (_a lot_), and he had a knuckle sandwich for anyone who suggested otherwise. Puckerone didn't _do _relationships and she didn't want one either. It was the perfect setup. Seriously. Rachel Berry was a smoking hot chick who made him laugh and was killer in the sack. It was a wonder though that she didn't have guys falling at her feet and eating out of the palm of her hand. He thought that if she wanted that, she could easily make it happen. (With lesser men of course and not him _obviously. _Duh!)

He felt her lips press against his earlobe and her warm breath on his neck. "The game's over. Wanna play with me now?" she whispered seductively. He could feel her smile against his neck as she walked her fingers along his bicep, her scent surrounding him.

She could very well be the best friend he'd ever had, he thought as a slow, wicked grin spread over his features. "You're not going to pretend I'm Dallas Clark are you?" he asked gruffly.

Rachel stood up and smirked down at him. "I wouldn't do that. _Again_."

His jaw dropped; she grinned. And like a shot, he was off the couch, chasing her through his apartment as her laughter squealed through the air. He caught up to her, slung an arm around her waist and hoisted her off her feet, effortlessly tucking her tiny form under one arm. Growling in her ear, she laughed even harder. "Berry, Berry, Berry," he scolded, carrying her towards his bedroom, "what am I going to do with you?"

"I can't wait to find out," she giggled.

* * *

Her face was illuminated in the soft golden glow from his bedside lamp as she slowly writhed on top of him. He watched her, completely transfixed, while her hips swiveled in a slow, tantalizing rhythm that made his breath come a little faster and his heart pound a little harder. She was absolutely gorgeous with her head tossed back and a hand tangled in that mass of thick, dark hair, the other trailing down the valley between her perfect breasts. The breathy way she moaned his name while looking down at him through lowered lashes with a faint smile on full, pink lips made him never want to leave his bed.

It was in these moments that he allowed himself to think she was completely his and he was hers. (Even though he didn't want to begin to define _what_ that meant exactly.) But she was fucking _his_, because the thought of her doing this with _anyone else_ made his skin turn fifty-seven shades of green and had his hands itching to rip faceless men limb from _motherfucking_ limb if they even dared to look in her direction.

He was sure she wasn't sleeping with anyone else. Well, mostly sure. That was something that hadn't been defined or even talked about in the midst of laying the ground rules for their…_whatever_. He hadn't so much as breathed in another woman's direction since the afternoon he'd kissed her on the sidewalk in the middle of the goddamn snow—and that shit, while trippy and weird, didn't bother him. What bothered him now, as more breathy moans passed through her lips, were guys named _Mark_ that her friends wanted to set her up with; or that fucking dude _Ben_ that he'd found in her apartment that one night and knew for a fact she'd gotten on her back for. Well, fuck all that. Because Noah Puckerman? Didn't fucking share.

"Rachel?" he bit out, his voice raspy.

"Hmm?" she sighed, her hips rocking a little faster.

His hands came to her hips and guided her movements. She felt so goddamn _good_. "I've got a rule to add to our…_arrangement_."

She opened her eyes a little wider and smiled down at him, planting her hands on his chest. "Okay," she said, quickly followed by "_Oh, God_, this is good. What's this new rule?"

"As long as this thing between us lasts, _you only fuck me_. No one else," he said harshly.

The words hit her like a bucket of ice water. Her hips stilled and her eyes flew open to glare into his. "_Excuse me_?" she ground out. She moved to climb off of him, but his grip tightened around her hips and kept them joined. He bucked his hips, thrusting deep inside her, and her eyes rolled back in spite of herself.

"What's the big damn deal? I just want to hear you say you're not doing this with anyone else but me."

"You're an asshole," she snapped. "And an idiot. You're the _only_ one I've been doing this with, Puck. Though after this, I don't think we will again."

His eyes narrowed to thin slits and he reared up so they were face to face. "Like hell, Rachel. You don't want this to end." He fisted a hand in her hair and roughly dragged her lips to his, kissing her forcefully. She resisted briefly, then he felt her resolve slip and she kissed him back with as much fervor as he did her. "Neither do I. Just tell me," he bit out.

Angry tears stung behind her eyes. "I already told you," she spat heatedly. "I'm not with anyone else. But I also said that we should only do this for as long as it's fun. You insinuating that I get on my back and point my heels to God for anyone with a penis _isn't fun._"

"That's not what I fucking said." She struggled in his grasp and he wrapped his arms tightly around her, burying his nose in her hair. "That's not what I said," he repeated softly. "Don't put words in my mouth."

"What about you, huh, Puck? Are you out banging chicks in bathrooms or closets until I get off work?" She hated that she went there, but turnabout was fair-fucking-play and when she was backed into a corner, she swiped back.

He lifted his head and stared down heatedly at her. "I haven't touched anyone since you. Haven't wanted to."

She believed him. But, God, it would make _everything_ easier if she didn't. This _thing _was getting complicated already and she wasn't sure she was equipped to handle it. "I believe you," she sighed. "Why don't you believe me?"

"Dammit, Rachel! I never said I didn't believe you," he growled. "All I'm asking is that we only have sex with each other for as long as _whatever this is_ lasts. And you're not going out on a _fucking date_ with that douche Kurt wants to set you up with either."

It was as though the clouds had suddenly parted, allowing the sun to shine clearly over the real issue at hand. _He was jealous_. "You're an idiot," she said again, though she rolled her hips into his. And then did it again.

"You still pissed?" he asked dumbly, loosening his hold on her arms. He figured if she was still having sex with him they must be good.

"Yes, I'm still plenty pissed and I'd like for you to just shut your damn mouth for a little bit," she bit out, screwing her eyes tightly closed, pumping her hips furiously against his. His lips closed over hers in a bruising kiss and she dug her fingers into his shoulders as she rode him as hard and as fast as she could, sprinting towards the finish line as the crazy and commanding lust wound itself into a tight coil in her belly.

Puck swung his legs over the side of the bed, his feet finding purchase on the floor. His hands gripped her shoulders and slammed her down again and again on his cock, which only served to make her movements even more powerful and frantic. His brain screamed for oxygen and he tore his lips away from hers, sucking in a ragged breath. Her eyes flew open and locked heatedly onto his. "Fuck me," he ordered, bucking against her. "Fuck me!"

And she did. Hard. Fast. Furious. The burning between her thighs hit a fever pitch and her entire body was on fire. His teeth bit down against her pulse point and his fingers slipped between them and pinched her clit, hurling her over the edge as every color of the rainbow bloomed in her vision and a primal scream ripped from her throat.

Her walls clenched like a vise around his cock and he came hard and fast after her, shuddering violently as the orgasm wracked through his body. He swallowed thickly and raised his head. Rachel had her forehead pressed against his shoulder, her chest heaving and her warm breath hitting his heated skin. Gently, he combed his fingers through her hair and tipped her head up until her warm brown eyes met his.

The heat and anger had melted away from his eyes, she noticed, and his fingers were ghosting lines up and down her spine as he dipped his head to kiss her lips. That kiss was tender and sweet and everything that the last ten minutes had not been.

"I'm sorry," he murmured against her mouth. "I'm an asshole." She didn't say anything and it unnerved him. After a moment she pressed her lips fully against his and leaned back to look at his face.

"That whole fucked up situation aside, Noah, I'm still having fun with you," she said finally.

Puck's lips twitched up into a relieved smirk. "Ditto."

She sighed, her own smile fluttering across her face. "Want to go eat some pie?" she asked, smoothing her hair behind one ear. "And by that I mean dessert, not a euphemism for my vagina."

He laughed and kissed her noisily on the cheek, making her giggle. "Sounds good. You wanna watch your parade performance?"

Rachel's eyebrows shot up. "You recorded it?" she asked incredulously.

He bit the inside of his lip and shrugged, feeling slightly embarrassed before remembering badasses don't _get _embarrassed. "Yup," he grinned.

And when her face lit up like the Fourth of July, he knew he'd been forgiven.

* * *

Would love to know your thoughts on this one. Your reviews are like crack to me. :)

Stay tuned for more!


	15. Falling Slowly

**A/N: **OMG, you guys...1,000 reviews? That is just INSANITY! Thank you, thank you, thank you for reading, reviewing, alerting, favoriting and all that jazz. I appreciate it more than you know.

This hasn't been beta'd, so all mistakes are courtesy of moi. To Mandy, thank you, as always, for reading my word vomit and putting up with my crazy. Also, thanks to Rachel (goingvintage) for joining in on the crazy. :) Your help is great, ladies.

Also, thanks to those that wished my Colts good luck...I'm still smarting over the loss, but I'll get over it. ;) It's still football season in this story though, so if you see more references, it's not that I'm having trouble letting go...it was just in the plan all along. Ha!

* * *

Puck sat back in the well-worn chair thumbing through a months-old issue of _Men's Health_ trying to curb the urge to punch the doucherod sitting next to him in the face for coughing in his general direction. God knows what kind of germs he was spreading. He decided, as he waited amongst the sick for his name to be called, that he was a little (maybe a lot) pussy whipped. He wasn't sick. Far from it. No, he was in the doctor's office to get his dickhole swabbed and a panel of STD tests run because Berry'd asked him to.

See? _Pussy whipped_.

In his defense (and that of his badassness), Rachel had provided tremendous incentive to get said tests run, so he really didn't mind spending a morning off in this manner. (Though he wasn't _super_ _jazzed _about owning up to the doctor the number of sex partners he'd had since his last visit.) Ever since Thanksgiving last week, the same night that they'd agreed to be mutually exclusive fuck buddies, their sex had managed to get even hotter and more intense. He wasn't sure how that was possible, but it was the truth, so there you have it.

But back to the incentive. The other night while they were having sex, she looked up at him with those amazing doe eyes of hers that were heavy-lidded and smoldering and in a pouty, breathy moan, said _I want to feel you come inside me_, while wrapping her legs higher up on his hips. That was _wicked hot_ and completely unexpected and just the thought of it made him blow his load a little early. (Whatever, he was a fucking _rock star_ in the sack and he _totally _made it up to her later.) Anyway, after they were done, he'd asked her if she was serious about what she'd said and she told him that she had been _very_ serious and that since she was on the pill and they were only sleeping with each other (His idea, by the way, lest you'd forgotten _that_ genius move) that it would be nice to not have to worry about condoms. He was _all about that_ because he hadn't hit anything barebacked since he was sixteen and that had only been one time (He didn't want any little Puckerones running around the greater Lima area, thank you very much.) He was ready to get started immediately and cream pie her _good_, but she told him there was no way that was happening until she knew he was clean. He'd been mildly offended and had insisted that he was STD-free, but no dice until she had _proof_. He thought it only fair that she ante up with proof of her own and she'd smiled and said no problem, though he's pretty sure that she was being condescending.

Condescending or not, he didn't care. He liked Rachel. (Shut up!) She was a cool ass chick that was smoking hot, made him laugh (though sometimes not on purpose…she had a total nerdy side that he found hilarious), and, because it needed to be said again, fucking phenomenal in bed. He no longer hedged when he wondered if she was the best lay he'd ever had. It was proven fact at this point.

And she was musical. Practically at every moment. When they talked, they talked about music more often than not. Sometimes she would break out into song, to demonstrate a point, which at first he found kind of strange, but because he loved the sound of her voice, (her pipes were killer) he quickly became a fan of her proving her point. Even when she was in the midst of hitting her peak, her sounds were _melodic_. It was a little odd, yet sexy as hell, and he was quickly learning which places on her body elicited sounds from her when touched or kissed.

She also tolerated the crap (read: awesome Puck-isms) that spewed from his mouth. Like last night she was laughing at him because he answered a question wrong on _Jeopardy_ (Again, shut up!) about literature (Seriously, who gives a fuck? _Rachel Berry, evidently._), and he thought she was going to piss her pants because she just would _not _stop laughing at him. He'd gotten annoyed and told her _Berry, if you don't stop laughing at me, I'm gonna put my dick in your mouth and make you gargle my babies_. He'd used that line before, to disastrous results. Every girl he'd ever said that to became super offended, (like, how _dare _he suggest they blow him when just the day before they couldn't stop blowing him…whatever) usually called him an asshole and stormed away. So the moment those words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. He wasn't ready to see the likes of Berry's sexual skills bounce out of his life yet. But you know what she did? Well, first she laughed some more (for real, she nearly peed her pants), called him a boorish jackass, and then _she did it. _Like, the _world's best blow job_ did it. (Daily Double _that_, Alex Trebek.) Her mouth was _insane _and he thought that she could probably suck a golf ball through a garden hose. So yeah, he _liked_ Rachel Berry. Very much.

A middle-aged nurse that looked like she'd had her fair share of hard livin' came out and called his name, shaking him from his thoughts. He tossed the magazine back onto the end table, gave the snot factory next to him a scathing look and went to get the tests over with.

* * *

After rehearsals, Rachel headed back to her apartment to grab a nap and a shower before she had to be back for that night's show. Sleep hadn't been high on her list of priorities since things with Puck started. Not that she was complaining, but she definitely needed to catch up.

Things with him were…really _good _and, ever since the night of Thanksgiving, surprisingly uncomplicated. They didn't discuss what they were because there really was no need to do so. They were sleeping with each other and no one else and they enjoyed hanging out. That was enough for her, for them. Still, though, they kept it a secret from their friends. She kind of liked that they had this secret that was only theirs to share. Her life was usually so _routine_ and his presence, their activities, made it anything but.

It surprised her that she liked his company as much as she did. Obviously the terrific sex with an incredibly gorgeous firefighter was a no brainer. However, nearly everything else about him was the antithesis of what she was normally attracted to. He was rude, territorial, supremely foul-mouthed, and while she suspected that he wasn't nearly as dumb as he liked to pretend, he wasn't what she'd call an intellectual. He made her laugh though, and when she felt his lips press against hers, or his hands glide over her body, all of those other things faded away and she just lost herself in the moments they spent tangled together.

Puck was also a very talented musician and that _really_ turned her on. They could talk about music for hours…not that they _had_ talked for hours because they usually got distracted, but they _could _if they wanted to. Probably. She also loved hearing him sing and play the guitar. _Fire Extinguishers_ played a gig the other night and she'd gone with Quinn to watch. That had been the toughest test yet in keeping their _whatever _a secret because the moment he sang _I'm on Fire_, she wanted to jump on stage and rip his clothes off.

Smiling, she scrolled through her iPod until Springsteen came up and decided to listen to him for the rest of the walk to her apartment. She was nearly home and The Boss was singing about how _this town rips the bones from your back_ when she felt someone grab her. She opened her mouth and screamed when Puck turned her around and laughed, saying something she couldn't discern due to the music blaring in her ears. Yanking the ear buds free as her heart pounded in her throat, she glared at him and started slapping at everything she could get her hands on. "Puck! Dammit, you nearly gave me a heart attack!" she scolded.

He chuckled, ducking a slap aimed for his face. "Sorry, Berry," he said with a devious smile. "I called your name—didn't realize you had your iPod on."

"Somehow I don't believe that," she told him, pressing a hand to her chest, willing her heart to stop pounding a million miles a minute. "_Jesus_! What are you doing here?"

He stepped forward and wrapped his hands around her hips. "Thought I'd see if you wanted to kill some time with me this afternoon before your show."

She groaned, removed his hands and took a step back. "I would, but I'm _exhausted_. All I want to do is take a nap."

Puck smirked. "A nap sounds awesome. Can I join you?"

Rachel smiled, but shook her head. "Call me crazy, but for some reason I don't think we'd get much sleep."

"Aw, come on, Berry, we can just take a nap together. I'll keep my hands to myself. Scouts' honor," he told her impishly, holding up three fingers.

Her lips twitched. "Oh, you're no boy scout," she laughed dryly and rolled her eyes, not believing him for one second. Heading for her steps, she turned and motioned for him to follow. "I'm too tired to argue. Come on, then."

He grinned wickedly and followed her up to her apartment.

* * *

Puck kicked off his shoes and stripped off his sweatshirt before flopping down on her bed and rolling to his side. He watched her unzip the pink hoodie to reveal a matching pink sports bra underneath. Her ass looked damn good in the tight black yoga pants she was wearing when she walked over to the window and opened it.

"Christ, Berry, it's 10 degrees outside, do you need the damn window open?" he asked, feeling the instant chill in the room.

She cast a baleful eye in his direction and walked over and turned on the fan, a sassy smile on her lips. "My room, my nap—deal with it," she said lightheartedly, knocking the excess pillows to the floor and pulling back the covers. She pragmatically set both her cell phone and alarm clock to go off in two hours and forty-five minutes and climbed beneath the thick duvet. Noticing his eyes on her, she smiled self-consciously and pulled the elastic ponytail holder out of her hair, combing her fingers quickly through it. "What?" she asked, laying back and shifting to her side so they were face to face.

God, she was fucking adorable. (And sexy.) "Nothing," he smirked, pulling the duvet up over his body and shifted a pillow beneath his head. "Fuck, it is _cold_ in here," he shivered.

"If this is your attempt to get me to share body heat with you, it won't work, Puck," she smiled softly. "I'm going to take a nap."

"You're mean," he pouted.

"Aw, you poor thing." Rachel snuggled a little closer and pressed her lips warmly to his, pulling back before he could deepen it and declare her nap over before it even began. His eyes were a soft green today, twinkling mischievously as they watched her intently. She shivered, but had no clue if it was from the air or the man. He shifted and peeled off his t-shirt and she eyed him warily. "Noah—" she warned quietly.

"Shh…just chill, baby. Let's spoon," he suggested roguishly. When she snorted and rolled her eyes he kissed her fully on the mouth. "I'm serious," he murmured against her lips. "I could use a nap, too, but since you like it to feel like Siberia in here, you're gonna let me mack on some of that body heat. I'll behave, I _promise_," he reiterated again.

Rachel turned over to her other side and readjusted the pillow, feeling his thick, muscled arm come around her waist. She snuggled into him, enjoying the warmth from his bare chest pressed against her back. As her eyes fell closed and his fingers ran through her hair in a soothing rhythm, she decided that this wasn't such a bad idea after all.

* * *

Her nap lasted all of an hour. It wasn't his fault. Well, it kind of was, but he had held up his end of the bargain and hadn't tried anything. She woke up, all warm and close, with her head snuggled against his chest and their legs and arms tangled around each other. The look on his face was almost angelic as he slept, with his long, thick eyelashes flirting with the tops of his cheeks and his full lips parted slightly. He was so gorgeous that it made her breath catch and stoked the fire that was seemingly always lit for him.

Reaching out her fingertips, she ghosted them along the hard angles on his face and over the outline of his lips. He groaned softly and shifted closer to her, his hand running over her hip and around to settle on her backside. "I knew you wouldn't be able to keep your hands off me," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. His eyes remained closed and he smirked.

Rachel let out a soft, breathy laugh. "Look who's talking—your hand is on my ass."

"Well, you've got a hot ass, baby," he said deeply, pressing her closer. His eyes slowly blinked open and met sleepy brown ones. She looked worn out. He smoothed a hand up her back to rest on warm skin and dropped a quick kiss on her lips. "Go back to sleep, Rach."

She started to protest that she wasn't tired, but the yawn she couldn't stifle gave her away. "Okay," she whispered, her eyes falling shut.

Puck watched her for a few minutes, until her breathing slowed and evened out and she slipped into a peaceful slumber. He'd never just taken a nap with a girl before. It was strangely intimate and just…_comfortable. _Then his stomach did a strange little somersault and he closed his eyes and willed himself back to sleep, doing his level best to _ignore, ignore, ignore_ whatever the hell that foreign feeling was.

* * *

The next time he woke, she was leaning over him with her lips nipping at his earlobe. "Hey," she purred, skating kisses towards his mouth. "I have to get up and get in the shower."

Groaning, he surfaced from sleep and mumbled a groggy _okay. _

Rachel smiled against his mouth. "Do you want to join me?" she asked temptingly. She watched his eyes open fully and take on a wicked gleam. She knew that would get him.

Grinning like the Cheshire cat, he pushed himself up and kissed her. "_Hell yes_," he said enthusiastically, kicking off the duvet and scrambling out of bed. Seeing her with a winning smirk on her lips made him laugh and toss her over his shoulder.

"Noah," she giggled. "I'm perfectly capable of walking."

He slapped her ass. "Shut up, Berry. You totally dig it when I do this. It gets you hot because I'm so masculine and shit. I've seen the way you ogle my body like I'm a piece of meat."

Rachel opened her mouth to protest and realized that she would be lying. "What can I say? You're definitely Grade A, Puckerman," she told him in a flirty tone, making him chuckle as he carried her into the bathroom and kicked the door closed behind them.

* * *

That night, Puck strolled into the bar and spotted Finn, Mike and Matt already at a table in the back. "Sup, assholes?" he greeted, sliding into the booth next to Matt, and bumped fists with Chang. He reached for an empty glass on the table and poured a glass from the pitcher.

"Dude, where have you been hiding?" Mike asked.

Puck cast a bored look in his direction. "What are you talking about?"

Mike shared a look with Matt, who just shrugged silently. "You're like, never around anymore."

Rolling his eyes, he swigged his beer. "I'm fuckin' here now, Chang. You been missing ol' Puckerone have you?" he asked with a chuckle.

"Not really, you big douche. We're just sort of used to you always being around is all," Mike retorted with a crooked grin.

"Why don't you bust Finn's balls for a while? He's the one with the girlfriend."

"Been there, done that," Finn chimed in. "They just got done when you walked in. But, now that they mention it, you have been MIA lately." He grabbed a handful of popcorn and shoved it into his mouth. "What gives?"

"Wasn't aware I was coming to a yenta convention tonight. Fuck, man." The non-Jews at the table all exchanged a look of confusion and Puck snorted into his glass. These were his bros, but they really were idiots sometimes. "Forget it," he muttered.

"Daaaamn," Matt called, in a rare outburst, when a group of attractive women walked into the bar. "Look at that one in the purple. That is one fine mocha-skinned honey. Dibs!"

"Rutherford just jizzed in his pants," Puck laughed, leaning casually back against the booth.

"Get bent," Matt grumbled.

Mike craned his head to get a better look at the women. "Hot, but too high maintenance. The Changster knows," he offered sagely, tapping a finger to his head.

"You're retarded, Chang," Puck said companionably. "I'll go get us another pitcher."

Once Puck walked away, Mike grinned. "Okay, let's place bets on how long it takes Puck to pick up one to take home." He pulled out his wallet and slapped a ten on the table. "I'm going with the tall blonde and," with a glance at his watch, "12:30."

"No, no," Matt shook his head, digging out a ten spot of his own. "The redhead at 11:30."

Finn hesitated before pulling out two fives. "The brunette in the red and I'll give him until 11:45."

"God, this game is so fun. Been a while since we've played, eh?" Mike asked.

"Yes, it has been," Finn agreed, trying to remember the last time he'd seen his best friend hitting on a woman.

"Rutherford, just go over and talk to your African Queen already if you're gonna drool all over the damn table. God Almighty," Mike snapped, kicking his friend under the table.

"I will later," Matt said, kicking him back.

"Pussy," Mike coughed into his fist. "Oh, excuse me. Terrible cough I'm developing."

Puck returned a few minutes later with two pitchers in his hands and slid back into the booth. "Wanna shoot some pool?"

The other three exchanged looks of confusion. "Wh-what are you doing?" Mike asked, totally incredulous.

"The fuck does it look like I'm doing? Drinking beer with you faggots. How many times have I told you it's essential for you to wear the protective gear at work, Chang?"

"How come you're not trying to pick up a chick to take home?" Matt asked, perplexed.

He shrugged and looked around. "Nothing that piques my interest," he drawled, bored.

"Oooh—did you get uh, a little something from someone?" Mike asked in a stage whisper, pointing to his pants.

Puck glared and flipped him off. "I'll pretend you didn't just ask me that, asshole. My business is clean, _thankyouverymuch_."

Mike held up his hands. "Hey, you can't blame me for asking. I don't think anyone would be _surprised_. You do rake in a _ton _of pussy. 'S all I'm sayin'. Alright, Matt is gonna stroke out if he doesn't get to talk to that girl over there. C'mon, buddy, I'll be your wingman." He stood up and picked up his beer and grabbed Matt by the collar, dragging him out of the booth.

Finn looked up and saw another firefighter from their station. "Tony!" he called loudly.

"Whattup, bitches?" he greeted. "Tickets for you, Puckerone."

Puck looked in the envelope and nodded his approval before pulling out his wallet and slapping some bills into the other man's hand. "Thanks," he grunted. "Appreciate it."

"No sweat. Sorry, can't stay. Got my lady waitin'. See you fucksticks later." With a little salute he walked away.

Finn snatched the envelope off the table before Puck could put it in his pocket and pulled out the tickets for inspection. "Well, well, what do we have here?" Finn asked, shooting Puck a curious look. He waved the tickets in front of his best friend's face. "Tickets to the Jets/Colts game."

Puck shrugged and sipped his beer. "So?"

"You _hate _the Jets."

Puck scowled. "Can I have my tickets back, asshole?"

"Hmm," Finn hummed exaggeratedly, tapping a finger to his lips. "Who do we know that likes the Jets? Oh, wait, no—not the Jets, the COLTS! That's funny; I seem to recall that _Rachel _is a huge Colts fan. These tickets wouldn't be for her, now would they, Puck?"

"Dude—nunya! Seriously."

Finn smirked. "Oh, my God! They _are_ for her. When the _hell _did that happen?"

"Hudson, let it go," he said, rolling his eyes. "There's nothing going on with me and Berry," he lied, running a hand over the back of his head.

"Bullshit, dude."

Puck narrowed his eyes and Finn lifted a brow. "Fine. These tickets are for her. We're friends and we hang out sometimes and that is _all _you're getting from me. Drop it."

Finn opened his mouth to say something else and Puck cut him off.

"I'm also enacting the _Bro Code of Silence_. So you can't tell your girlfriend or anyone else about this. And I fucking mean that."

Finn studied his dark haired friend for moment before shaking his head and taking a long pull from his beer. "Guess none of us are winning the bet tonight," he said smirking. "Mike and Matt will be so disappointed."

"Come on—I'm ready to kick your ass at pool," Puck grumbled, sliding out of the booth.

* * *

Wednesday night rolled around and Puck and Rachel sat in the middle of his living room listening to music and sharing Chinese food. He leaned in and dug his chopsticks into her carton of sweet and sour pork.

"Hey, get your own," Rachel playfully scolded, knocking her chopsticks against his before relenting and offering him the carton.

"We're bad Jews," he smirked, scooping the pork into his mouth.

Rachel laughed and nodded her agreement. "And this close to Hanukkah, too. Will you please pass me the chicken?"

He found the white carton and handed it to her. "Were you planning on feeding us until Hanukkah next year, Berry?" he asked.

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Shut it—I like my food."

"I know, hoss, I know," he grinned, laughing when she kicked his leg.

"You're mean," she told him, even as her lips twitched into a grin.

He took one last bite and set the carton on the coffee table. "Hey, I've got something for you."

Rachel peered up over the top of her carton of food and smirked as she chewed. "I'm sure that you do," she laughed. "But, can I finish eating first? Maybe let my food digest a little?"

His lips twisted into a sneer. "Not that, wise ass. Well, I mean, yeah, of course that _later_ but I meant I have a present for you."

She blinked owlishly, setting down her food. Then a shy smile fluttered across her lips. "Really?" she asked, surprised.

Fuck. Just when he thought she couldn't possibly be cuter, she found a way to prove him wrong. "Yeah. Be right back," he told her, pushing himself off the floor to walk to his room. He returned quickly and handed her a card in a blue envelope. "Happy Hanukkah," he grinned. "A little early."

Her smile grew when she saw _Smalls _written in his slanted handwriting on the outside. She carefully opened the envelope and pulled out the Hanukkah card. There was a picture of a gold menorah with the words _Jews do it for 8 days_ in red print above it. She threw her head back and laughed. "Hilarious." When she opened the card, she saw the tickets and read them closely, quickly looking up at him with wide eyes and then back at the tickets. "You got me Colts tickets?" she asked quietly. Something warm wound its way through her as she stared down at the two tickets in her hand.

Puck wasn't sure what her reaction would have been _exactly_, but he hadn't imagined her being quiet at all. His face fell into a frown and he thought that this had been a fucking dumb idea. He was just about to open his mouth and tell her to forget it when she set the card down beside her and threw her arms around his neck and tackled him to the floor.

"You got me Colts tickets!" she giggled excitedly, peppering his face with kisses before capturing his lips fully and slipping her tongue into his mouth.

He angled his head and deepened the kiss, his hands smoothing her long hair out of the way as he realized that _this _had been the reaction he'd expected all along.

Rachel pulled back, completely breathless, as a bright smile beamed across her features. "Noah, thank you! I'm so excited!"

Puck smirked proudly. "You're welcome, babe. It's on a Sunday, so you'll have to take off work but—"

"No problem," she assured him, dropping her lips to his again before burying her face against his neck, hugging him. "This is the best gift. We'll have so much fun at the game."

His lips turned up and he wrapped his arms fully around her, hugging her back for a moment before sitting them both up, settling her in his lap. Clearing his throat, he brushed the hair back out of her eyes. "I should probably tell you that Finn knows." He watched the happiness in her eyes fade as something akin to panic took its place.

"What does he know?" she asked nervously, pushing against his chest.

"That there's something going on between us."

"Puck! Why did you tell him?" she snapped.

"I didn't," he snapped back. "He was there when Tony gave me the tickets and being the nosy douche he can be, he looked in the envelope and pieced it together. All I told him was that I was taking you to the game and that we're friends. But, as dim as Finn can be sometimes, I know he didn't buy that."

"God, he's going to tell Quinn."

The muscles in his jaw tightened and twitched as anger sparked through him. "No, he won't. But is it really such a big fucking deal if he does?"

Rachel saw what she thought was hurt flash briefly in his eyes that were very sharp and very green tonight. "I'm not ashamed of what's happening between us if that's what you're asking, Noah," she murmured quietly, brushing her fingers over the stubble on his jaw. He shrugged and looked back at her questioningly, saying nothing. "I like our little bubble," she said, a tiny smile on her lips. "This secret that's just ours—it's sexy and it's fun and I'm not ready to let others in on it just yet. Please, just—just give me a little more time to figure it out." She pressed her torso flush against his, looping her arms around his neck again. Smiling down at him, she brushed her nose lightly to his before kissing him gently.

"Okay, Berry," he muttered, smirking against her mouth, feeling his annoyance melt away. He went to kiss her again and she pulled back, a teasing smile on her face. He groaned.

"I have a present for you, too," she told him.

"Yeah? Got something kinky on under your clothes that I can rip off?" he asked hopefully, with a sneaky grin.

A throaty laugh bubbled out of her mouth. "Maybe," she coyly offered. "But, I got you a Hanukkah gift, too." She leaned over and grabbed for her purse, pulling out a silver envelope and handed it to him. "Happy Hanukkah, Noah."

The card had a cartoon menorah with the candles lit and at the bottom it said _Come on baby, light my fire._ "Nice," he laughed. He opened the card and saw two concert tickets to see Ray LaMontagne.

"Seems we had the same idea," Rachel said, nervously chewing on her thumbnail.

"Ray LaMontagne? Awesome!" he grinned, looking into her eyes. "Thanks, baby. I think Finn will really enjoy checking this out with me," he teased. Rachel slapped his chest and he dragged her mouth down to his. "Just joking, Berry, damn."

"We're good, right?" she asked hopefully.

"Yeah," he nodded. "I have one more thing for you and then we're getting naked."

"Okay," she laughed.

He shoved a hand into his pocket and pulled out a folded slip of paper and handed it to her. "Disease free. Just like I told you."

Rachel was touched that he'd actually gone to have the tests run. She didn't bother reading it. Instead she tossed it over her shoulder and kissed him forcefully, setting her fingers to work on the buttons of his shirt.

"Jew on Jew action is about to get even hotter, isn't it, Berry?" he asked in a cocky tone when her lips slid over the exposed skin on his chest.

She lifted her head and gave him a kittenish smile. "Mmm hmm," she purred.

"I love Hanukkah," he told her, flipping them quickly over and covering her body with his.

* * *

Thoughts? I'd love to hear them. Hope you enjoyed it.

Thanks for reading.


	16. Look at You

**A/N:** Thanks everyone for the reviews and your messages. :) I'm really sorry that it's taken me so long to update. Real life got in the way, as it's wont to do from time to time. The muse also hightailed it away from me for a while. I think she was on a bender in the tropics. Whatever. She's back now.

Special ups to my homeslice, Mandy. 3 you. And to Becca (radcgg here at FF) for basically serving as the Bounty Hunter for my muse and dragging her back home. She really is the reason this chapter came to fruition, so thanks. And to the million others I whined to along the way about this chapter, thanks to you as well for putting up with my cuh-ray-zay. :D

is really being a pain today, so I'm also posting this over at my LJ. .com/

* * *

"What in God's name are we doing?" Drew asked dryly as Kurt tugged him behind a Christmas ornament display.

"Spying on Rachel," was Kurt's reply. He peered around the corner to get a bead on his brunette friend as she perused the makeup counter and laughed into her cell phone.

Drew followed Kurt's gaze and let out a long-suffering sigh. "Is this about your suspicions that she and Puck are sleeping together?"

"Does the word _duh _mean anything to you? Ooh, she's on the move—let's go!" He put on his big Prada sunglasses, grabbed Drew's arm, and pulled him along.

"You look ridiculous," Drew told him.

"One does not look ridiculous in Prada," Kurt told him, flipping his scarf around his neck before stealthily weaving his way through the throng of Christmas shoppers.

Having gotten used to this type of crazy behavior ages ago, Drew just rolled his eyes and followed along, grateful for the shopping reprieve. "What information are you hoping to glean from your Sydney Bristow-esque recon mission? _Rachel's by herself_," he said slowly.

Kurt halted his steps and authoritatively pointed to the sign above the escalator that read _Lingerie 4th Floor_.

"Uh-uh, no!" Drew vehemently shook his head. "I'm not going to go up to the lingerie floor and stalk around. People will think I'm a pervert."

"Pretend you're shopping for your girlfriend," Kurt said in a_ must-I-think-of-everything_ tone and stepped onto the escalator.

Drew frowned and was tempted to just let Kurt fly solo, but his only other option was to continue Christmas shopping which, frankly, made him want to cut a bitch. So with another sigh and a shake of his head, he hopped onto the escalator that led them upstairs to _Pantyland_. "You do realize that she's probably just shopping for flannel pajamas or something, right? That you have no irrefutable proof to this theory of yours?" he asked, feeling his cheeks heat the moment they reached the fourth floor. "Seriously, Hummel, take off your sunglasses. Security is probably going to come after us."

"_Relax!_ They've got shoplifters to worry about. Besides, it's Christmastime and there are other men picking out gifts." He strolled down an aisle, craning his head to find Rachel.

"If you're going to spy, you should maybe be a little less conspicuous," he muttered.

"Excuse me?" Kurt asked drolly, fixing him with a pointed look.

"Just sayin'," Drew shrugged. "I don't think that espionage is your forte."

"Hmph," he sniffed, folding his arms across his chest. He slowly removed his sunglasses and stared into blue eyes. "Is that so?"

Drew's lips twitched. "Yes."

"Well, then, please tell me why Rachel's at three o'clock decidedly _not _going for flannel pajamas as you so lamely suggested on the escalator ride, but instead considering the _Naughty_ _or Naughtier _display?"

He peered around his boyfriend and saw Rachel scrutinizing a red lace number with a smile on her face. "Yeah, okay—that's not the kind of stuff you wear alone," he conceded, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Why yes, I accept your apology," Kurt sneered before glancing over his shoulder. "Crap, I lost her."

Drew snorted and pointed to the dressing room that Rachel was about to enter. "Over there, Maxwell Smart."

"Come on!" Kurt barked, weaving his way through the racks.

"Now I know you've lost your damn mind; there is no way I'm going in there with you."

Kurt waved off this notion and grabbed his hand, tugging him into the dressing room behind him. He walked along the row of curtained partitions, looking at the feet of every occupant and stopped when he spotted Rachel's shoes. Pulling back the curtain, he poked his head inside. "Hi, Divalicious!"

Rachel jumped and screamed, frantically trying to cover up her lingerie-clad body with her discarded sweater. "Kurt!" she heatedly snapped. "You scared the _shit_ out of me. What the hell are you doing?"

He eyed her slowly up and down. "I think the better question is _who _the hellare _you_ doing?"

Her eyes went wide. "I have no idea what you're talking about it," she supplied weakly, looking past him into the hall. "Is that—Drew?"

"Hi, Rach," Drew said, embarrassment flushing over his handsome face.

Kurt snapped his fingers in front of her face. "Don't change the subject. Why are you in here trying on scandalously sexy lingerie if it's not _for _someone?"

Rachel glanced down at her satin and lace covered body and knew she truly didn't have a leg to stand on. But that didn't mean she wasn't willing to hop frantically around the truth. "It's a gift," she told him smoothly.

His smile was lightning quick and wicked. "_Clearly_."

"For Quinn."

Kurt laughed evilly. "Oh, sweetie, please. You and Quinn don't have that kind of relationship," he teased.

Rachel rolled her eyes. "I was trying it on to see how it fits. We're close to the same size."

"Lie and lie," he said, bored. Rachel's lips fell into a frown and he continued. "You and Quinn don't have the same body type and you refuse to pick out other people's sex clothes. You said that very thing when we were shopping for Tina's bachelorette party."

_Dammit! His mind was like a steel trap._ "Kurt, you're really invading my privacy here. Seriously," she whined, gesturing to her state of undress.

"Rachel, I'm interested in _his_ goodies, not yours," he said, gesturing to Drew, ignoring his boyfriend's muttered _Oh, sweet Jesus. _"Who's this gift _really _for? Anyone I know?"

"None of your business," Rachel clipped, feeling that her bubble was on the verge of completely bursting.

He tapped a finger to his lips thoughtfully. "So you're not _denying_ that it's for someone, you're just saying it's _none of my business _who that person is. Fair enough. Ooh, can I guess? You'll tell me if I guess correctly, won't you?" he asked, eyes rounding excitedly as he clasped his hands together.

"No!" she cried. "Now get out of here." She tried to shoo him out of the little room.

"That's okay. I already know who it is."

She paused, taking in the smug look on her friend's face. He was bluffing; she was sure of it. "No, you don't," she said with conviction.

He lifted a perfectly arched brow sky high. "No?" he asked, as a sly grin spread slowly over his cherubic features.

"No," she repeated, her certainty waning as she swallowed thickly.

"Okay, then, _Rachel Berry_," Kurt said slowly. "I'll leave you to pick out your seductive wears for _Puck_. Ta-ta!" He turned to breeze past the curtain when her arm reached out and stopped him.

Kurt's words bounced erratically around her brain like a pinball before they registered completely. It finally happened. _Her bubble? Effectively burst. _"Kurt, how—"

"How do I maintain such a flawless complexion?" he asked, smirking when she frowned. "How do I keep such a stunningly handsome boyfriend?" Rachel's eyes narrowed. "Or how do I manage to be impeccably and fashionably dressed for every occasion?"

Rachel shook her head. "No. How did you know about Puck?" she asked softly.

He smoothed the hair out of her eyes. "Aw, baby doll…I wasn't a hundred percent, but you just confirmed it."

Her eyes fell closed and she sighed, defeated. "Well, why did you suspect us then?"

"Because I'm me and I _know_ these things. When will you learn?" he asked kindly. "And before you ask, Quinn doesn't know and I hadn't planned on telling her."

Rachel expelled a breath that felt a lot like relief, not knowing exactly why she was so bound and determined to keep this secret that was becoming less of a secret with each passing day. "Okay," she said finally, unsure of what else there was to say about the matter. Noting the Cheshire grin on her friend's face, she furrowed her brows in question. "Why are you looking at me like that, Kurt?"

"I just like being right. It is so damn _satisfying_. Drew, what did I tell you?"

"Please don't drag me into this," he answered uncomfortably. "I told him to stay out of it, Rach, I promise."

She smiled at the man shuffling awkwardly outside of her dressing room, avoiding eye contact by studying the ceiling. "Honey, you think I don't know whose handiwork this is?"

Kurt let out an affronted snort. "_Hello_! Do I need to remind you that it was _my _advice that you took and not Quinn's to sex up Puck in the first place? And also how _utterly ecstatic_ that makes me? Oh, does this mean you're really not going to go out with Mark?" he asked with a malevolent grin.

"Out!" she snapped, pointing to the hallway. "Out, now!"

"Please," he waved her off. "I need more information and I can help you pick out something that is simply _to die for_. Forgive me, Rach, but this," he gestured dramatically at the lingerie she was wearing, "looks like something a two bit hooker would wear. It leaves nothing to the imagination."

Her cheeks flamed scarlet and she half wished for the earth to open up and pull her into the depths of its fiery core. "Well, he _has_ already seen it all," she retorted acidly. "And I don't need your help. Just _please _get out of here."

"Why ever for, Divalicious? Unlike you, I have no qualms whatsoever about picking out someone else's 'sex clothes,'" he added with air quotes. "D—go out there and pick something out for Rachel."

"_Fuck that_," Drew spat. "Rachel, I'm really sorry. Kurt, I'm going to finish the Christmas shopping," he said through gritted teeth. "Just call me when you're finished with this ridiculous mission of yours. See ya, cutie," he called to Rachel and hightailed it out of the ladies' dressing room.

She raised her brows at Kurt and he countered with the same look. "Aren't you going after him?"

"No," he drawled slowly. "He's _fine_. I'm staying here and helping. You—start talking," he said, taking a seat on the padded bench and crossing his legs. "When did you and Puck start your little _rendezvous_?"

Rachel weighed the options in her mind about telling him the truth. On one hand, it would be _kind of _nice to have someone to talk to about everything. And on the other, having someone to talk to about Puck meant lots of _questions_ she'd finally have to find answers for and she _still _wasn't ready to do that. After a few moments of going round and round in her brain, she took a breath and told him everything.

* * *

"_Fuck_ _you,_ you sneaky sumbitch," Puck swore when Finn vaporized his player on the video game.

Finn chuckled and tossed his controller onto the coffee table. "All part of my skills, yo," he said, puffing up his chest.

Puck slanted his best friend a look and reached for his beer. "Dude—we've talked about you saying shit like that. You're not _BAMF_ enough to pull it off." He laughed at his buddy's frown. "Do you talk to Quinn like that when you're getting her off? _Yo, baby, just part of my skills!_" he mocked. He found this idea totally goddamned hilarious and howled with laughter.

The taller man smirked and raised his bottle to his lips. "Quinn's not complaining," he told him.

Puck grinned proudly and reached for a slice of pizza from the box between them and shoved half of the slice into his mouth. "Nice, bro," he mumbled with a full mouth before washing it down with his beer.

Finn picked up his controller. "Ready to get your ass kicked again?"

"What the fuck _ever_, Hudson. You got lucky last time. Let's do this," Puck said, his swagger in full effect.

* * *

Puck had Finn's guy totally cornered and he was completely about to annihilate that fucker when Finn opened his fat mouth and said, "Dude, how long have you been having sex with Rachel?"

He faltered for half a second on the controller, but that was all the opening his douche of a best friend needed to fucking kill his ass. _Again_. He wondered when the hell Finn got smart enough to play mind games. "What the _fuck_, dude?"

A shit-eating grin spread slowly across Finn's face. "I'm sorry, is this breaking news? You and Rachel _are_ sleeping together. Am I right?"

"Shut up," he grumbled.

"Nice comeback," Finn snorted. "I'll just take that as confirmation."

Puck wasn't in the mood for this conversation right now. It wasn't that he felt the need to keep things a secret from his best friend, but it's how Rachel wanted it for the time being. He also half wondered what it meant that part of him _kind of_ wanted to have a conversation with Finn about it…even if now wasn't the time. _Jesus._ He hadn't been to the beach lately, so he wasn't sure where this sand in his vagina had come from.

Not one to use his words in every situation, he took action and chucked the game controller at Finn, smacking him right above the left eyebrow.

"Ow! Goddammit!" Finn yelped, rubbing the rapidly reddening spot on his head. "You're such a _dick_!"

"Sorry, bro," Puck said soberly before bursting out laughing. Honestly, he hadn't _aimed_ for Finn's head. It was merely a happy accident.

"Yeah? Well, sorry _this_, douchebag," Finn snapped, punching his friend hard in the chest.

"You hit like a fucking girl, Hudson," Puck jeered, as he reached out and pulled a titty twister on his friend.

Next thing he knew his laugh was dying in his throat and he was tackled to the ground; Finn pushed his face into the carpet. Puck slapped his chest, hard ('cause let's face it, sometimes girls had the right idea!)

"Slapping, really?" Finn chortled, continuing to sit on his chest.

The air slipped out of his body as Finn pressed down hard with his hands. He balled his fist and swung, landing it square against Finn's jaw.

"_Motherfuck_!"

Puck got the upper hand and knocked _Frankenteen_ off and pinned him to the ground. "Now what, big boy?"

Finn punched him in the solar plexus.

"Dude, this shit is _super gay_!" Puck coughed, struggling for breath. Then with an Indian burn to end all Indian burns to Finn's forearm, he released him and scrambled to his feet. He snorted and extended a hand to help his buddy off the ground.

"That was dumb," Finn said simply, running a hand over his smarting jaw.

Puck rubbed his sternum and bit out a gruff, "Fuckin' A."

The two men smirked at each other and headed for the kitchen and more beer.

Finn yanked open the fridge and pulled out two beers, handing one to Puck. He held the bottle to his jaw, letting the cold soothe the throbbing ache. "Tickets to Ray LaMontagne? Awesome," Finn exclaimed, noticing the tickets under a magnet. "When'd you get those?"

Puck took a long, slow pull from his beer, eyeing his friend. "Hanukkah gift," he admitted.

A knowing grin spread across Finn's face. "From Rachel?"

"Yeah, so," Puck shrugged. His friend smirked and he rolled his eyes in response. "What?"

"You bought her tickets to a Colts game and then she got you tickets to Ray LaMontagne? Dude. _Dude!_" Finn's eyes rounded and his mouth fell open.

"Spit it the fuck out already, Hudson," Puck said crossly.

"Rachel's your_ girlfriend_."

He nearly choked on his beer. "Are you _shitting_ me right now? Think about me and then that crazy ass statement you just made. I don't _do _girlfriends. Rach and I are just fuck buddies, alright?" Though as the words left his mouth, he wasn't sure who he was trying to convince more.

"Oh that is such bullshit, Puck, and you know it."

"No. It isn't," he retorted quickly.

Finn rolled his eyes. "Okay, so she's not your 'girlfriend.' But friends with benefits don't buy each other expensive presents on gift-giving holidays."

He had a point. _A very valid point_. But he and Berry made their own rules. They didn't need to conform to society's norms on _whatever_-ships.

When Puck didn't respond, Finn pressed for more information. "How long has she been your non-girlfriend, then?"

"If you're asking how long I've been banging her, then the answer is since the night we played the reunion show."

Finn's brows shot north and his lips twitched into a smirk. "Dude."

"Fuck off! Don't say it again," Puck snapped. "And don't you know any words besides _dude_?"

"She is _so _your girlfriend."

"You want my fist in your face again?" He set his bottle down on the counter and pushed up his sleeves. "Let's go."

Finn shook with laughter. He never thought he'd see the day that his best friend would be so riled up about a woman. The fact that he had no clue about it either was even more hilarious. He wondered how long it would take him to clue in.

"You're a douche." Puck slugged him (hard) on the shoulder and stalked out of the kitchen.

No matter how awesome and hot and wicked in the sack Rachel Berry was, she wasn't his goddamn _girlfriend_.

Puckerone didn't _do_ girlfriends.

Right?

_Right!_

* * *

Puck and Rachel left the stadium after the Colts/Jets game. Her team lost and she wasn't taking it well. _At all. _He shouldn't have found her so fucking sexy at that moment, because honestly, she was being a big Debbie Downer about the whole thing; her lips were curved in a deep frown and the annoyance from the loss was vibrating off her in waves. With the twin braids sticking out beneath her white Colts hat, the blue horseshoe painted on her cheek, and all the rest of her Colts gear, she really worked the whole _dedicated sports fan_ thing. (He also knew how she liked to get railed when she was in a bad mood, so he figured this worked in his favor.)

"Come on, Smalls," Puck prodded as they walked through the parking lot towards the shuttle. "You've been pouting since the start of the fourth quarter."

Rachel shrugged and tromped along silently beside him.

If she'd only listened to him, they probably could have avoided this whole _pouting business_. He'd told her that they would probably lose because the Colts would rest their starters for most of the game so they'd be ready to go for the playoffs. He hadn't said it to be an ass (shocking, right?), but hello, he watched a lot of _Sports Center_ and he was a dude that knew his football. She'd adamantly disagreed with him, stating that they could have a perfect record (and perfect season if they won the Super Bowl) and that there was no way the Colts would just throw it away like that.

So they made a $10 bet (with a side of some hot, nasty sex—winner's choice) and traded barbs throughout the first half. They laughed a lot; and Rachel was _super _into yelling and cheering for her boys in blue and high-fiving fellow Colts fans in their section. (Her knowledge of the game, by the way, was impressive and _hot_.) The Colts took a commanding lead early on and she took a great deal of pleasure taunting him and the Jets fans nearby. She'd delighted in calling their quarterback _Dirty Sanchez_ and he'd nearly choked on his beer. And when he teased her and asked if she even knew what that meant, he almost pissed his fucking pants when she described it to a T. (Rachel Berry had a dirty mind, kids.)

At one point he thought was going to have to step in when some douche Jets fan got mouthy with her, but she shut ol' dude down and verbally annihilated him without so much as batting an eyelash. (She was awesome in a lot of areas.) Puck had been so proud (and turned on) that he'd tugged on one of her braids and dropped a loud, smacking kiss to her lips; then he bought her a beer and a jumbo pretzel with hot mustard because the victorious smirk on her face was fucking adorable. (Shut up.)

It went downhill after halftime. She'd nearly gone apoplectic when she saw Peyton, Dallas, Reggie and the rest of the first string take the bench while third string Curtis Painter stepped in as QB. But she insisted that a 17-6 lead was _more than adequate_ and she was still confident that they'd pull off the W.

She'd taken his teasing in stride at first, companionably flipping him off or rolling her eyes at him over the top of her beer.

And then the Jets took the lead in the fourth quarter and the profanities that had been flowing impressively off her tongue in the third quarter died out and made way for extreme pouting as she sported her _Mayor of Sore Loserville_ demeanor.

They were halfway through the parking lot and her silence and crazy speed walking was annoying the shit out of him. "Hey, Pouty McPouterson—slow your roll a little," he bit out testily.

Rachel stopped and turned towards him, taking in the pinched expression on his face. She was being _such_ a brat and it made her feel like a total asshole. Grabbing the front of his coat, she glanced up at him with a crooked and embarrassed smile on her face. "Puck, I'm sorry," she said sincerely. "I'm such a sore loser. _God._" His response was an arched eyebrow. "What I'm about to say will probably not seem like the truth, but the game was so much fun." Puck's signature smirk appeared and her own lips twitched. "Okay…everything until the fourth quarter was fun."

"Alright," he nodded curtly.

"Thank you for bringing me," she smiled brightly. "I couldn't tell you how long it's been since I've been to a game. You're super badass and awesome for giving me such an amazing Hanukkah gift." She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing, but it was pointless. Her laughter tinkled through the air around them.

"Now, that wasn't so hard was it?" he asked with a wicked grin, folding his arms around her shoulders and hugging her tightly against him. She leaned into his torso, wrapping her arms around his waist and lifting her mouth up for a kiss. He kissed her soundly and then smirked against her lips. "Just so you know, Berry, that apology saved you from getting the _Dirty Sanchez_ later." Her mouth dropped in shock and he laughed, skirting away from her and narrowly dodging the blow she aimed to his side.

* * *

"This city is full of fucking lunatics," Puck said, as they spilled into Rachel's apartment. He toed off his sneakers and shrugged out of his jacket.

"Oh, come on, Puck," Rachel giggled. "It's not every day that you see a man reading Keats to a pigeon." She took off her Colts jacket and hung it in the hall closet; she gave his the same treatment.

Puck rolled his eyes and chuckled. "Not just a lunatic, but totally bat shit crazy then," he murmured, splaying his hands over her denim covered hips and drawing her closer. He smirked down into her eyes. "Sorry your team lost."

Rachel's lips fell back into a pout, but quickly twitched up into a smile. She'd gotten over the sting on the ride back to the city. (Mostly) "It's okay," she shrugged, running her hands over the front of his shirt. "I really had so much fun at the game; thank you again," she told him sweetly. Tipping her head back, she rose up on her toes and pressed her lips to his, lingering there. She grinned at him when she dropped down again.

A crooked smile formed on his lips and he tugged playfully at her braids. "You're welcome, Smalls."

"I'm going to go wash this horseshoe off my face," she said, gesturing to the blue Colts emblem she'd painted on her cheek earlier. She patted his chest and headed for the bathroom.

He watched her go (he _loved_ to watch her go) and plunked himself down on the couch, switching on the TV. Flipping through the channels, he found _Bad Boys II_ on one of the movie channels. "Fuck yes," he grinned, tossing the remote down. He got up to get a drink. "D'you want a drink, Rach?" he called from the kitchen.

"Some water—thanks," she answered.

Pulling open the fridge, he grabbed a coke for himself and the pitcher of filtered water she kept there. He poured her a glass and walked back out into the living room, pausing to quote the movie.

_"You got porno and homo shows up in here in front of my babies? What kind of freak-ass store is this? And you two muthafuckas need Jesus!"_

Puck snorted out a laugh and walked into her bedroom, where it quickly died in his throat when he saw her standing at the mirror in just her Colts jersey and white cotton panties. Panties that, upon further inspection, he discovered had a blue horseshoe on the front. _Goddamn_. (Her team spirit was fucking hot.) He took a big gulp of the water he'd brought for her and swallowed thickly.

Rachel spotted him in the doorway. "Hey," she smiled coyly, undoing the braids in her hair. "I didn't hear you come in." She picked up her hairbrush and ran it through her chestnut locks.

"Nice outfit," he commented roguishly, stepping behind her. Their eyes met in mirror.

"Yeah?" she asked with a breathy laugh. "I was going to try and entice you into bed with this." She felt the laughter rumbling deeply in his chest as he pressed against her.

He expelled a breath and let his eyes leisurely rake over her body in the mirror. She was so toned and petite and _perfect_; utterly mouthwatering and gorgeous. Lifting the hem of her jersey slightly, he stared at the sports themed panties and grinned wickedly. "It worked…I'm enticed." His eyes gradually raised to hers again, held there.

Rachel cocked a knowing brow and continued to glide the brush through her hair as his eyes studied her. (They were a soft, dreamy shade of green just then.) He made no move to rush or to possess the way he normally did; his calloused fingers merely stroked slow, indecipherable patterns on her hips and down the tops of her thighs, sending tingles up her spine. "What?" she asked quietly, unsure what that curious look in his eyes meant.

His hand fell away from her hip and he rested his chin atop her head, just watching, before he reached for the brush, gently removing it from her grasp. Her big brown eyes grew curious in the mirror and his lips twitched in response; he liked her that way. He especially liked the way her eyes rounded and dilated when he ran the bristles gingerly through the dark strands from top to bottom.

"Your hair drives me crazy," he whispered lowly against her ear. He continued brushing her hair, piece by piece, alternating using his fingers and the brush in his hand.

Rachel leaned into his motions (she almost felt like a damned cat), but the sensual feeling of Puck brushing her hair had her on the verge of purring, so she supposed cat-like was fairly apt. She laughed quietly when his fingertips skittered down the nape of her neck. (A spot where he knew she was ticklish.)

"You drive me crazy," she murmured back, brown meeting hazel in the mirror once more as she watched a smile stretch leisurely over his chiseled features.

Puck put the brush down on the dresser and smoothed her hair over one shoulder, exposing her neck. Her lashes fluttered in anticipation and he smirked, wrapping his arms around her middle and pressing his cheek against hers. "We look good together," he said lowly, the smirk falling away. They really did look amazing standing there leaning against each other.

"We do," she agreed with a faint smile, resting her head back against his shoulder; her hand rubbed lightly over his forearm.

"Damn right. We're two good lookin' Jews," he said, making her laugh again. He turned and trailed his lips lightly up the delicate column of her neck and over the curve of her jaw. "You're beautiful," he said thickly, nipping at her ear.

That was the first time, she thought hazily as her head began to swim. (His lips had that effect on her.) The first time he'd referred to her as _beautiful_ and not _hot _or _sexy _or some other similar adjective. Butterflies raged wildly in her belly as the word sounded over and over again in her brain. "Noah," she whispered, growing desperate to feel his hands on her fully.

Puck lifted his eyes to hers in the reflection. "I mean it—you're so damn beautiful, Rachel." He didn't miss the blush that swept up her neck and stained her cheeks. His heart hammered in response—he'd never used that word to describe her before—which was ridiculous, because anyone with working eyes could see that she was; and remarkably so.

"Kiss me," she breathed, angling her head back.

He gladly obliged, cupping her chin with one hand and brushing his lips teasingly against hers. His tongue smoothed over her bottom lip, seeking entrance, and delved inside when she opened for him. Leisurely sampling her mouth, their tongues glided lazily around each other in a slow dance. Rachel's hand slinked up to the back of his head, pulling him closer as the kiss grew more and more breathless.

She groaned softly when his lips broke from hers, but then his hands (his amazing, _amazing _hands!) snuck under her jersey and inched it up and off her body, exposing her breasts that were wrapped in royal blue lace. (She had _a lot_ of Colts spirit.)

"Sexy," he rasped as a little smile tugged at his mouth. He skimmed his fingertips along her collarbone, watching her watch him in the mirror. (Hot!) Brown eyes lowered when his fingers softly brushed the gentle swells popping out at the top of the lace.

Familiar heat stirred low in her belly and began to pulse at the apex of her thighs. She arched back against his chest, eager for more. Any moment, she figured. Any moment now he'd fire up the burners and they'd flash and spark and rage for each other. Her breath hitched when that flash didn't come as expected, but rather moved at a snail's pace as his hands slid along her ribcage and down over the smooth skin on her stomach. She was pretty sure she whimpered, because she saw the corners his lips quirk up in the mirror as he continued to explore her body (tortuously slow) with his hands. One hand disappeared behind her back and traced up her spine, making her quiver involuntarily. "Noah," she purred softly, working her bottom lip between her teeth when she felt the clasp of her bra give.

Need and lust swam in those Bambi eyes and with every touch he watched her head further down the path of insanity. He'd driven her insane before; on multiple occasions. But this? This was something different. Something _more_. He kept waiting for his own need to kick into overdrive and just bend her over and fuck her senseless…but something in him didn't want _just _that this time. What he wanted was to savor her body; to worship it; cherish it. He didn't know _what the fuck_ that meant, nor did he really want to know. Everything he wanted (and _needed_) at the moment was there within the confines of her lowly lit bedroom with dark eyes imploring him to give her _more_.

Puck nudged the blue straps down on her shoulders, letting it fall away from her chest. His eyes stared heatedly at the reflection of her perfect breasts all golden skinned and round and soft, with rock hard peaks in dusky pink. Her pert little ass shimmied and pressed back against his arousal as his name rolled pleadingly off her tongue. "Patience, baby," he murmured softly, nipping at her shoulder, running his knuckles on the underside of her breast before capturing one turgid peak between them, pinching lightly.

She determined, as she reached up and stroked the side of his face, that he was hell bent on taking her out for a leisurely Sunday drive. Destination: the _brink of madness_. Not that she minded. It was just—_different_ than it usually was between them. But it was a good different, she thought. Part of her wondered what brought out this side of him, but then his fingers dipped into the waistband of her panties and all thought dissipated in her brain. He was _so close_ to where she craved him. "Mmm," she hummed, spreading her thighs apart in anticipation.

"What do you want, Rachel?" he asked knowingly as his finger ghosted over the blue horseshoe on the front. His other hand palmed at her breasts, pulling at her nipples the way he knew she loved. She bowed back, arching her chest into his hand, filling it more fully with soft flesh. "Tell me," he said lowly, grazing his lips behind her ear and along her jaw.

Her eyes rolled back and she fisted a hand in his hair, holding his mouth steady. "Your hand," she breathed. "Touch me."

"I am touching you," he grinned, stroking his hand down the valley between her breasts for emphasis. "See?" His other hand moved up over her abdomen, decidedly away from where she wanted him most. (And where he longed to be, and would be soon.) Rachel's eyes snapped open and latched heatedly onto his in the mirror. She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off. "You're gorgeous," he said flatly, gesturing toward the mirror with his head. "This is what I see every time I look at you."

"Noah—"

The breathy way she moaned his given name (for the _third_ time) rapidly frayed the last tether he had on his self-control. "Goddammit!" he swore quietly, turning her in his arms and dipped his head, capturing her lips with his. He wasn't good with words and the ones he'd said so far tonight left him feeling completely stripped bare. The only thing he knew how to do was _this_, and even now it threw everything off kilter because it was so fucking _different_ than it had ever been before. He willed his brain to _shut the hell up_ already. So his arms circled her waist and lifted her off the floor, carrying her over to the bed.

Rachel's breath caught as laid her gently down on the mattress. She shifted up to her elbows when he pulled back and watched him quickly tug off his shirt and shed his jeans. He stared down at her with such intensity that it made her blood beat; her tongue darted out and slowly wet her lips. God, she _needed_ to be with him.

Puck crawled on to the bed and leaned in to kiss her, felt her hands cradle the sides of his face as her lips grew urgent under his and he lowered her back against the pillows. Supporting his weight on his arms, he looked down at all of that dark hair fanned out over white linen and the wanton look in her eyes. _Beautiful_, he thought again. "Fuck, I want you," he bit out.

A flirty smile curved over her lips and she stroked his cheek with her thumb. "So have me," she sighed dreamily.

It was all the invitation he needed. Smirking, he kissed the underside of her jaw and slid his lips unhurriedly down in a lazy exploration of her body. Pausing to draw a puckered peak into his hot mouth, he swirled and flicked his tongue over it, grinning against her breast when she arched and moaned against him.

He still wasn't where she was burning for him and it was driving her crazy. "_Please_," she begged, bucking her hips up desperately.

His tongue trailed languidly down her stomach, circling her belly button, and he reached his hand between her thighs and cupped mound, finding her panties already soaking wet. "Dammit, Rachel," he choked gruffly, shifting further down on the bed to give her pussy the attention it deserved. Hooking his fingers at the waistband, he yanked them off in a single, fluid movement.

"Yes—_Noah,_" she whimpered, pushing her hips up as she spread her legs wide for him.

Puck held her thighs apart, brushing his nose over the tiny strip of hair she hadn't completely removed from her body, inhaling the musky, heady scent of her arousal; his cock twitched responsively against the mattress. "You smell amazing," he told her, running the back of his over her silky smooth bikini line. He parted her wet folds with one finger, then two, before he licked a long, slow line up her sex, ending in a tiny flick against her clit. "And you taste even better," he rasped, letting the taste of her roll over his tongue.

"Oh, God!" she mewled, bowing off the bed. "More. _Please, more_." Rachel was well past the point of caring that she was _begging _as heat coiled tightly in her belly. She rotated her hips in tight, desperate circles against his mouth, keening from the sensation of his exquisite tongue swirling and licking at her slit. "You're so—" she broke off, crying out when he slid two fingers deep inside her body, drawing her clit into his mouth and sucking hard. "Fuck, you're so _good _at this_,_" she panted, fisting a hand wildly in her hair.

He pumped the fingers buried inside her and rubbed the swollen nub roughly with his thumb. "That's it, baby," he grunted, glancing up at her face, seeing her eyes scrunched tightly and her bottom lip caught between her teeth. _Almost there_.

She writhed without abandon beneath him as his fingers stroked her cleverly, his tongue lapping wildly at her clit. Her heels dug into the mattress and she reared up against his mouth and fingers. Stars exploded behind her eyes as she cried out and came with a violent shudder.

Puck pushed back and shed his boxers before circling her wrists with his hands and pulling her up until they were kneeling in front of each other. "You're fucking gorgeous, Rachel," he muttered, tangling a hand in that wild mane and dragging her mouth to his, swallowing her whimper.

Rachel's already muddled brain screamed for oxygen and she tore her mouth away, gasping in a ragged breath. "_God,_" she moaned, dropping her forehead to his shoulder as his hands skimmed along the small of her back before settling firmly on her ass. She felt his cock twitch against her thigh and she reached between their bodies, sheathing him in her hand, stroking him surely. The groan rumbled deeply in his chest and vibrated against her. Smiling against his shoulder, she planted a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses leisurely up his neck while her hand continued to pump him. "Does that feel good?" she purred, pulling his earlobe gently between her teeth. His hands flexed in response, pressing her flush against body.

"You know it does," he groaned thickly, his breath quickening. He stilled her hand, kissed her deeply. When the kiss broke, he couldn't hold out any longer and moved behind her, wrapping his hands possessively over her hips. She moved to lean forward and plant her hands on the mattress, but he stopped her.

She looked curiously over her shoulder and he saw the intense haze of lust (and a hint of _something_ else she couldn't identify) in his eyes staring back. He caught her lips again and guided himself into her heat, filling her completely. _Oh, yes!_ Her head lolled back, resting against his shoulder as he began to move inside her. As their hips rose and fell in tandem, he cupped her breasts, pinching her rock hard nipples between his fingers, driving her _up, up, up_ towards the edge again. _God. _

"Look," he bit out the order; cupping her chin in his hand and tipping her head up so she could see the same thing he did. "Look at us," he told her again, his voice softening slightly, casting his eyes towards her dresser and the image reflected in the mirror. Her dark hair was mussed, her full lips parted sensually and her lids lowered seductively as he took her slowly from behind. _Fuck._ _Beautiful_, he thought again and again.

Her vision snapped into focus as she saw what he saw. The way his muscular arms folded around her body; the way his hand moved with purpose from where it cupped her chin down between her breasts; the way it finally settled between her legs. He spread her wide and her breath caught again as she watched him slip in and out of her body, feeling every movement as she watched it in the mirror. Words failed her for how incredible they looked. "We look—" she began, though the words stopped registering when his fingers curled against her clit. "Oh, God, Noah!"

He couldn't get enough—his eyes or his body—he simply couldn't get enough of her. The punch of _seeing _everything he was feeling was a total knockout; kind of like the woman herself. One of her hands reached back and ran over his hair and the other rested on top of the one he had between her thighs, spurring him on as their eyes locked in the mirror. "You're amazing," he grunted, snapping his hips faster, his release quickly approaching.

The orgasm crashed through her and she went rigid, her mouth round as his name spilled brokenly from her lips.

Puck fought the urge to clench his eyes shut and watched as the pleasure swept through her, seeing the evidence on her face and feeling it as her walls clamped around him like a vise. He gripped her hips tightly and slammed into her a few more times before finally spending himself inside. "_Fucking hell, Rachel!_" he choked out, his release quaking roughly through his body.

Easing the grip around her hips, he pressed a kiss to her temple, lingering there for a moment before slipping out of her body. His arm wrapped around her middle and pulled her back with him, flopping against the pillows. She rolled to her side and shifted a pillow beneath her head. He mirrored her actions and slid closer, resting a hand on her waist. Her brows were furrowed in concentration and he chuckled lowly. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

Rachel smiled warmly at him, idly fingering the sprinkling of hair on his chest. "I'm trying to find a word that truly describes how great that was—and I'm failing miserably," she giggled softly, moving her fingertips up to ghost along his jaw line.

Puck's lips twitched and he smoothed a hand up her back. "It _was_ pretty good, baby," he downplayed, grinning when she rolled her eyes.

"That doesn't even scratch the surface and you know it," she chided playfully, lightly nipping at his lips. She lifted her lashes and held his gaze, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth as she considered the words on the tip of her tongue. "You completely melted me, Noah," she finally whispered, curving her palm gently over the side of his face.

If he was into stupid, sappy, romantic shit like poetry, he might have said that his heart had just skipped a beat and that he had butterflies in his stomach. But that was _a whole new level_ of gay. He couldn't clearly identify what it was he was feeling for the woman in his arms, all dark tousled hair and warm brown eyes and full lips, smiling softly back at him. Hell, he wasn't sure he was equipped to even do so. He kind of felt the way you always feel once you finally reach the top of that first steep hill on a rollercoaster, you know? Where it takes a few seconds to teeter slowly over the edge before it goes barreling down at insane speeds and you get that anxious, excited feeling and your stomach's in your throat and your heart kind of flops over in your chest.

It was sort of like that.

(Only better and scarier.)

Fuck.

Smoothing a hand over her hair, letting his fingers get caught, he laid his lips gently over hers and savored as she pressed her warm body closer, tangling her legs in his.

He could faintly hear the movie that was still playing in the living room and that's when it hit him.

_Shit just got real._


	17. Crash

**A/N: **Thank you all so much for the reviews! I appreciate it so much.

Many, many people to thank this time around. Mandy, love ya, pal. :) Becca, thanks for the beta and the hand holding; Jessica, brainstorming with you = super fun; Sheena, I hope to write like you some day. :)

* * *

The next morning, Puck moved quietly through her apartment while he got ready for work. It was fucking early and he'd only gotten tiny stretches of sleep in between the times that he and Rachel had turned to each other (again and again) during the night. He had no desire to go in today; all he really wanted to do was crawl back into bed with her.

It was hard to not want that (especially after the night they had). She looked so inviting, so peaceful, as she slept soundly on her stomach; her hair spilled over the pillow and her naked back was peeking out at the top of the duvet.

Yeah, he _really_ didn't want to go to work.

He leaned over her and pressed a kiss to her earlobe. "Rach," he murmured in her ear, "wake up, baby."

"Mmm," she stirred slightly.

Puck grinned and kissed her mouth, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "I've gotta go," he said lowly.

She mumbled something incoherently and rolled on to her back. Her eyes slowly fluttered open and she smiled softly up at him. "Mmm, stay," she whispered sleepily.

A smile tugged at his lips, turning the corners up. "Would if I could, Berry, but I have to go to work."

"Jobs…boo," she said, her lips turning down into a pout and her eyes falling closed.

God, his woman was adorable. (Whatever, she wasn't sleeping with anyone else. Ergo _his_.) "Tell me about it," he chuckled. "Come on and walk me out."

"Mmm," she hummed, snuggling into the pillow. "There's a spare key hanging by the door. Help yourself."

"Rach—"

"I'm all warm and cozy," she told him, reaching for his hand and toying with his fingers. "Just take it; I trust you." Her eyes blinked open again and she gave him a lopsided smile.

Puck didn't have any other examples or life experience to draw from, but this kind of felt like a big deal. (He mentally scolded himself, because _Jesus_ it was six in the damn morning and it was just a way for her to stay in bed.) "Alright," he smiled back, smoothing her hair behind one ear. "I'll try and call you tonight after your show."

Her smile grew a little brighter. "Okay." She pushed herself up and grabbed the front of his t-shirt, pulling him down for a kiss. Her lips warmed under his and she sank a little deeper into it. "Have a good day," she said when she finally pulled away from his mouth. "Be safe rescuing those cats. Those trees are really tall," she teased.

His lips twisted into an amused smirk. "Have fun writhing against the prison bars." (What? It was their little running joke.) Rachel's breathy laugh tickled his neck and she pressed a kiss to his jaw. "Last night was great," he murmured into her ear. She leaned back and angled her head up; he saw her eyes sparkle.

That funny feeling from the night before was in his chest and stomach again.

"It was _really_ great," she said quietly, grabbing his face in her hands and brushing her lips against his. "Thank you."

Puck growled softly in the back of his throat. He had to leave now or else he never would. "Bye, Rachel," he grinned, standing up.

"Bye, Noah," she smiled, snuggling beneath the covers.

He turned and walked out of her room, casting one last look at her sleepy form over his shoulder.

Yep. _Definitely_ real.

Now if he only knew what to do about that.

* * *

There was an extra bounce in her step that morning as she walked around different stores with Quinn. They were out shopping for the final touches for Quinn's annual holiday party on Wednesday night, and Rachel was having a hard time staying focused. Her thoughts kept straying to Puck and their afternoon at the game followed by the special night they had after.

He'd been so tender and passionate with her. She hated the term _making love _(hated it!), but last night she felt more—_emotionally connected_—to him than she ever had before. If she were to ever use that hideous phrase (which she _would not_), she supposed last night came pretty damn close to that.

Something had shifted between them and she was fairly certain that they were on the brink of something _great_…something _real_…something _more_. And for the first time in a long, long time, that idea didn't scare her. What _did_ scare her was that he might not be on the same page and she was _not_ ready to spook him by jumping the gun. She knew she needed to take a leap of faith (and she would eventually), but leaps of faith? _Rather terrifying_.

"Red or gold?" Quinn asked.

"I'm sorry?" Rachel asked, the sound of her friend's voice slowly registering in her brain.

"Where's your head today? You've been so distracted all morning," Quinn stated. Her eyes narrowed and she studied her friend curiously.

"I didn't get much sleep," Rachel answered truthfully, biting the inside of her lip to keep from smiling. "What are my choices again?"

Quinn set the table runners down on the display and placed her hands on her hips. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

(Yes)

Pangs of guilt washed through her and she felt like a shitty friend for keeping this secret for so long. She needed to tell her; found that she _wanted _to tell her and to get her advice. But because she'd kept said secret for almost two months now (and the fact that Puck was not Quinn's favorite person), the timing needed to be right. And it was not the type of conversation you have casually in the middle of _Crate & Barrel_. (Unless you wanted to make a scene of apocalyptic proportions in front of throngs of holiday shoppers)

"Just thinking about your Christmas present," Rachel lied easily.

Quinn's eyes lit up and a wide smile spread over her pretty face. "Well, carry on, then," she teased.

After the holidays, she decided. Rachel would tell her after the holidays. That would give her time to have a real conversation with Noah and they could figure out if they were ready to move beyond the _friends with benefits_ stage.

She decided to talk to him after the party at Quinn's. It seemed as good a time as any.

"I need a new outfit for your party, Fabs," Rachel said. (Telling the man you were sleeping with you wanted more seemed like a _new outfit_ kind of occasion, yes?) "You up for some dress shopping?"

"Always," Quinn grinned, scooping up the gold table runners. "Let's go."

* * *

The party was already in full swing by the time Rachel arrived as laughter and music greeted her at the door. Quinn launched herself at Rachel the moment she finished hanging her coat up in the closet. "You're here! Finally," the blonde greeted, hugging her tightly.

"Hi, Fabs," Rachel giggled. "Great party." She looked around the large apartment, smiling at all of the guests she knew. As Quinn hooked her arm through hers and led her towards the kitchen, Rachel locked eyes with Puck, who grinned at her before turning back to the conversation he was having with Drew by the balcony doors. He'd find her later, she knew, a stolen moment in a vacant room where they'd kiss and flirt and talk about their plans to meet up at his place later. But for now, he looked _so good_ in that black button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up (and she knew he'd smell intoxicating, too) that all she really wanted to do was slip her fingers between the buttons on his shirt, feel his skin warm beneath her fingers, and kiss him senseless. As if he could hear her thoughts at precisely that moment, his eyes met hers again and he flashed a knowing smirk over the top of his drink. (God, he was sexy)

He found her; just like she _knew _he would (though if she was being honest, she'd purposely stolen away into the guest bedroom at the back of the penthouse knowing it was off limits to guests). She tilted her head and smiled at him as moonlight washed through the room casting deep shadows over his face. "Hey," she greeted softly, her heart racing just a little faster than it was the minute before.

"Hey," Puck returned deeply, his eyes raking slowly over the red dress that hugged every delicious curve on her body. He placed a hand on the back of her head and drew her lips to his; sinking into the kiss he'd wanted to give her since he walked out of her apartment two days ago. "That's a damn dress," he mumbled against her lips, feeling her smile in response and curl her fingers into his shirt.

"I wore it for you," she murmured, nipping at his mouth and making him groan. (She was pretty sure _vixen_ passed those full, soft lips)

"I can't wait to peel it off later then," he grinned wolfishly, cocking up an eyebrow.

"Me neither," she answered with a kittenish smile before pressing her lips to his again; the warmth of it made her head fizzy like champagne bubbles. "We'd better get back," she sighed when the kiss broke. She rose on her toes and brushed her lips quickly against his before skirting around him for the door. His hand on her arm stopped her.

"Hey," he said, waiting until she turned back, a questioning look in her eyes. He wanted to tell her (ask her?) that they should just go out there together and to hell with what other people thought; the words were _right there_ on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't make himself say them out loud. "Can't wait 'til later," he told her instead, wagging his brows suggestively at her and making her grin. She headed for the door and tossed one last flirty glance over her shoulder before breezing out to rejoin the party.

Puck hung back for a few minutes wondering what the _fresh fuck_ was going on in his head where Rachel was concerned. For the first time in…well, _ever_, he wasn't completely freaked out by having one woman in his life. (Obviously, since he hadn't been with anyone but her for almost two months) But he didn't know what that meant or what the next step should be.

Okay, so he knew what the next step was. _Jesus_.

It was time for a discussion about fucking _feelings._

Sighing, he knocked back the rest of his drink and headed back to the party.

* * *

"Divalicious," Kurt greeted, cornering her by the buffet. She had just filled her plate and couldn't wait to tuck into the delicious looking food, but the mischief dancing all over her friend's face told her she wasn't about to enjoy a carefree meal at this party.

"Yes, Kurt?"

"You look fabulous," he told her, appraising her appearance from head to toe.

Her lips twitched into a cautious smile. "Thank you."

"Dressing up for your man?" he asked with pursed lips.

Rachel sighed heavily and speared a meatball with her fork. "Leave it alone, Kurt."

Kurt sniffed and wrapped his arm around her shoulders in a vice-like grip. "Oh, Rachel, Rachel, Rachel. How likely do you think it is that I would leave something like this alone? Silly girl," he told her teasingly.

Drew approached the pair with a smile. "Happy Holidays, cutie," he grinned, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

"Same to you," she warmly replied.

"This one hassling you?" he asked, jerking a thumb in Kurt's direction. Affronted, Kurt turned his nose up in the air and sniffed.

Rachel laughed, elbowing her friend in the ribs. "Why, Kurt Hummel would never do such a thing."

"Oh, yuck it up, you two, but I think I've remained _extremely_ composed considering how right I was about the _big secret_. I can't help it that I want a little more information out of Rachel, can I?" He looked back and forth between the two before answering his own question. "No, I can't. So, you," he jabbed a finger at Rachel, "start talking. I want to know what's going on with you and Puck. I've noticed the long looks you two have been exchanging when you think no one else is watching. But me? I see _everything_."

"Kurt, leave her alone," Drew warned. "It's a party, for God's sake."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Kurt replied drolly. "So?"

"So, what?" Rachel bit out, taking a large gulp of her wine to soothe her rapidly fraying nerves. Why everyone felt the need to be in her business was beyond her. All she wanted to do was eat some good food, share a few laughs and just generally enjoy the party before going home with the man whose kiss she could still feel on her lips. Was that asking too much? (She didn't think so.)

"Come _on_, Rachel. Do you really expect me to believe that you two are just sleeping together? Because I don't—not for one millisecond."

"Why are you asking me then if you have all the answers?" Rachel asked tartly, popping a crab puff into her mouth.

"Sweetie, I know that Tyler hurt you, but you can't hang on to that forever. This little bubble you've created can only last so long before you have to face reality and answer the tough questions."

She couldn't hide the wince at the mention of Tyler's name. She hadn't thought about him in a long time (honestly, she _hadn't_), but then Kurt mentions his name and it's like a spotlight on all of her insecurities and the real reason she was so desperate for her and Puck to stay in their bubble.

Whatever she felt for Puck would be discussed with him later. (After all, he should be the one to hear it first. Shouldn't he?) She was not going to have this conversation with Kurt before she had it with the man she was involved with. Plus there was the whole issue of telling Quinn. Her friend would no doubt be hurt to learn that she'd been kept in the dark for so long, but she was going to tell her. She just needed to find the right way to do so after the holidays.

"Whatever it is you think you know, Kurt, you've got it wrong. I assure you that all that exists between us is sex. Just leave it alone, okay?" The lie slipped past her lips and she felt something twist in her belly. Rachel gave them a tight smile and walked away, completely unaware that Puck was standing around the corner and had heard every word.

* * *

He knew she'd find him later. She'd cast a furtive glance around to make sure no one was watching (because God forbid anyone fucking find out) and then she'd sidle up to him with her bedroom eyes on and that fucking dress wrapped around her body like second skin looking beautiful and completely sinful at the same time. And here he was, feeling like a fucking tool of epic proportions having wanted to discuss _feelings _with her, when all he was to her was sex. _Fuck his life. _

Leaning against the counter in the kitchen with a fresh whiskey in hand, his jaw clenched tightly when she strolled into the kitchen (looking over her shoulder just as he predicted) with a tempting smile on her lips.

"There you are," she said, her smile growing brighter as she approached. "I've been looking for you."

"Well, you found me," he bit out, raising the glass to his lips and draining it swiftly.

"Easy there, killer," Rachel teased, lifting her eyes to his. His eyes were hard and cold as they looked back. Her brows knit together as she stepped closer. "What's wrong?" she asked, placing a hand on his stomach.

"Nothing," he shrugged carelessly, turning to refill his glass.

"Hey," she said softly, cupping his face in her hands, angling it towards her. "Are you okay? Do you want to get out of here?"

Puck snorted derisively, taking another big gulp of the amber liquid in his glass and feeling it burn a warm, sick trail down into the pit of his stomach. "Sure—or maybe we could just find an empty bathroom and get it over with."

Her eyes narrowed and her lips turned down, but she said nothing.

"You'd like that, right, Rachel?" he asked bitterly, setting his glass down with a thud on the granite countertop. His hands splayed over the curve of her hips, his fingers digging in. "For me to nail you up against a door while the party continues on the other side? Or is that too risky since your fucking friends might find out?"

Rachel snapped back as thought he'd slapped her. (He might as well have; the words hurt just as badly.) "What the hell is wrong with you?" she asked heatedly. She heard a familiar laugh behind her and she froze.

"What's going on in here?" Quinn asked; her brows furrowed as she looked between her best friend and Puck.

Puck's eyes fell to Rachel's face and he saw the look of sheer terror and watched as she swallowed thickly. _Fuck this_. All of it. He wasn't going to let Rachel Berry pull the goddamn strings any more. He lifted his eyes to Quinn, noticing that Finn was there now, too. He avoided his best friend's eyes and kept his own trained on Quinn.

"Rachel and I have been fucking since November. Merry Christmas," he said gruffly and stormed out.

"What?" Quinn sputtered, watching the blur that was Puck blow by her.

Hot, angry tears stung Rachel's eyes and threatened to spill over. She couldn't deal with the questions Quinn inevitably had right now. Right now she had to find Noah and figure out _what the hell_ was going on with him.

"Rachel!" Quinn snapped, grabbing Rachel's arm as she tried to hurry past. "Is it true?" she asked in disbelief.

"Not now, Quinn," Rachel spat, jerking her arm free and rushing for the door.

She just missed him as the elevator doors closed; she knew it was fruitless to yell at him to hold the doors though. He made it pretty clear he didn't want to talk to her, but Noah Puckerman had another thing coming if he thought he could act like that and get away with it. She was going to get to the bottom of this. Eyeing the door to the stairwell, she removed her high heels and ran for the exit.

Rachel reached the street level and pushed through the door, spotting him a few steps ahead of her. "Noah!" she yelled, seeing red when he didn't even pause and kept walking away from her. She hurried after him, the cold sidewalk biting into her feet. "Goddammit, Noah, stop!"

Part of him wanted to stop, to have this out with her and clear the air; but he was kind of drunk and he was afraid of what would come out of his mouth.

So he kept walking. And she kept yelling.

He finally stopped when something nailed him right between the shoulder blades. "The fuck?" he whirled around and saw one high heeled shoe on the ground. "You threw a fucking shoe at me?" he asked, completely incredulous as she stomped down the sidewalk towards him.

"You wouldn't stop," she said through clenched teeth, wrapping her arms around her body, trying to fight off a shiver.

She came outside without a coat. _In the middle of the goddamn winter_. "Dammit, Rachel, it's freezing. Just go back inside," he snapped.

"No," she bit back. "Why the hell did you _do_ that? You knew I was going to tell her when the time was right. I thought we agreed to keep things between us for a while longer? It's nobody's business but ours anyway."

"But the time was never right, was it? You fought so hard to keep this a secret. I wasn't asking you to take out a fucking billboard, Rachel, but you knew I was tired of hiding from our friends."

"So you just blurted out the truth in the crudest way possible? In the middle of a party? _Goddammit_!"

"This is what _pisses me off_ (and hurt his feelings, but fuck all if he was going to tell her _that_)…I'm good enough for you to spread your legs for but not good enough for your precious Quinn to know about. If you wanted anonymous sex so badly, Berry, maybe you should have picked out some random guy in your audience instead of me."

The sound of her palm connecting with the side of his face cracked through night air like a whip. "You're a fucking _asshole_," she choked out, her voice growing tight with tears.

"Yep and you knew that going in to this, so I don't know why you're acting surprised." (Great. He'd made her cry. Never before had he felt like a bigger piece of shit than he did at that exact moment.)

"My God, Noah," she began, hot tears trailing down her cheeks despite her best efforts to keep them from falling, "what the hell happened between the guest room and the kitchen? It doesn't make any sense." She swiped angrily at the tears with the back of her hand, annoyed by his silence. "Just tell me!" she yelled, desperate for an answer that would allow her to fix this. (Because she _had_ to fix this.)

"Why does it matter? This thing is over now, right?" he asked coldly. "Weren't those your terms? We do this for as long as it's fun. This isn't fucking _fun_ for me, Rachel." He shrugged and bit the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted blood.

"What are you talking about?" she implored.

He really needed to get the hell away from her or else those shimmering eyes of hers would bring him to his knees. "Come on, baby," he sneered, "we were just fucking. And now we're not. Don't know why you're making such a big deal out of it."

"Thank you, Noah, for cheapening everything between us," Rachel sniffled, brushing away more tears.

"Whatever, babe," he said pointedly. "It was fun while it lasted—and hey, feel free to give me a call if you're feeling horny. You're a really great lay after all."

Nothing about this made _any _sense to her. Not one thing. She shook her head and bridged the gap between them, tipping her head up to look him directly in the eyes. "You're really pissing me off right now. Just tell me what this is _really_ about, because the guy that took me to the Colts game on Sunday wouldn't be saying these things to me because he wouldn't want to hurt me—especially after the night we spent together. You do remember that night, don't you?" She bit the inside of her lip and searched his eyes for clue, for a glimmer of _anything_ that told her this wasn't over. "Why would that guy want to hurt me, Noah?" she asked softly.

All along he thought the real reason he'd never wanted to have a _girlfriend _was because he didn't want to be tied to one person (boring), but this? _This_ was the realreason. You get comfortable enough to let your guard down (even for a second) and you get kicked right in the fucking balls.

Puck swallowed and his throat felt like sandpaper. "He didn't want to," he began, seeing her eyes soften slightly, "and then he overheard the girl telling her friends that all that they had between them was sex."

He was kinda drunk; he was fully mad; and yeah, okay, his feelings were smarting a little. It was time to get the fuck outta there before he did anything else stupid, so he didn't wait around for her response. He simply turned and walked away; shoving his hands into his pockets and ignoring the way the wind stung his eyes.

Rachel stood motionless on the sidewalk, watching him walk away until she lost sight of him. Tears flowed freely down her face as the realization finally hit her.

_She'd hurt his feelings_.

And she could lose him. (If she hadn't already)

All because she'd been too afraid to notice what had been staring her in the face for a while now and to let go of the past that would allow her to finally move on.

Shivering from the late December cold, Rachel bent down to pick up the shoe she'd thrown at him. As she slipped her frozen feet into tall heels, her face crumpled and a fresh batch of tears sprang from her eyes.

Once she was safely in the warm elevator, she slumped down on the padded bench, her mind whirling like a tornado over possible ways to fix this mess. There was no use in playing _if only_, she knew, because the damage had already been done. But she hoped that it could be undone. (It had to be undone)

The doors slid open with a _ding_ on Quinn's floor and she needed a few deep, cleansing breaths before she was ready to walk back in to that apartment. Her emotional rollercoaster ride wasn't over yet, she knew, but she wasn't sure how much more she could take tonight.

* * *

Quinn moved through the party, playing the charming hostess, but inside she was mad (and sad and hurt) that her best friend would keep something so _big_ from her for so long.

She really wanted everyone to get the hell out of her home.

They never kept secrets from each other (well, unless it was about presents or something silly), but this? This was _huge_.

Rachel reappeared through the door with a tear-stained face and Kurt and Drew were by her side almost immediately, wrapping arms around her and whispering. Something about the whole scene told her the breaking news of _Puck and Rachel_ she'd gotten in the kitchen was yesterday's news to those two.

She pasted on a bright smile as some of her guests approached to tell her goodbye and she thanked them for coming. The smile fell from her face after they walked away and she saw Finn (her _boyfriend_) talking to Rachel, too.

If everyone knew about this secret but her, she was going to cut a bitch.

Rachel lifted watery eyes in her direction and Quinn felt her heart lurch for the obvious pain her friend was feeling and also for the hurt she felt from being the last to know. She watched Drew usher her through the apartment towards the bathroom and noticed Finn and Kurt talking closely together and shrugging.

Quinn politely excused herself from the conversation she was having with a neighbor and caught up to the two men following after Rachel and Drew.

"Did you know about this?" she asked heatedly, grabbing the collar of Kurt's shirt and tugging him back.

Kurt whirled on her and smoothed his hands down the fabric. "This is Gucci, for God's sake. Show some respect," he frowned. He saw the flash of hell fire in her eyes and took a cautious step back.

"I asked you a question."

He _hated_ when she had this eerily calm tone to her voice. (She was at her absolute scariest.) It was like the moment right before a scorpion whipped its tail around and dealt you a fatal blow. "No comprende!" he blurted nervously and scurried away.

"Dammit, Kurt!" she hissed after him before turning her eyes on Finn, who was now super interested in the lights on the Christmas tree. She already knew the answer to her next question. "You know, too, don't you?"

Finn focused guilty brown eyes on her and her own eyes welled up in response. "Yeah, I know," he said quietly.

Quinn's head drooped and she scrutinized the pattern on the rug beneath her feet. She couldn't believe her own boyfriend kept this from her. This night fucking blew. "How long?"

He smoothed a hand over her hair, rested it on the back of her neck. "I had my suspicions a few weeks ago, but Puck told me over the weekend that they'd been sleeping together since the night of the reunion show."

Her eyes snapped up to his. "So they're just screwing?"

"That's what he says, but he's full of shit—they both are."

"Why do you say that?" she asked curiously.

"He bought her Colts tickets for Hanukkah and she got him tickets to some concert. And when I teased him about her being his girlfriend he got fifty kinds of weird about it before throwing his controller at my head. Pretty much confirmed it for me."

Quinn pressed her lips together tightly, thinking back over her friend's behavior these last couple of months. Hindsight really was 20/20 because all of the little things added up and made perfect sense now.

Didn't lessen the hurt she felt from being kept in the dark though.

"Babe, please don't be mad at me. Puck asked me not to say anything for a little while and it wasn't my place to tell."

Quinn nodded her head and expelled a heavy sigh. "I know," she said, leaving it at that for now.

* * *

After the last of the guests had gone home, Quinn put Finn on cleanup duty (a task he jumped to complete trying to get back into her good graces) and she opened the door to the guest bedroom to find Rachel curled into a ball on the bed facing the window; Drew stroked her hair and Kurt paced the room trying to offer suggestions.

Kurt stopped when he saw her enter the room and he motioned to Drew that they should leave. He paused in front of her. "I know you're mad, but go easy on her," he warned.

She was a little tired of everyone thinking she was some sort of monster. (Okay, she _was _a little intense at times, but it was out of love—honest)

Rachel sat up and faced her blonde friend, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Hi," she said hoarsely, swiping at the newly fallen tears.

Quinn sighed again and walked over to sit next to her on the bed. "I'm mad, you know," she said without malice.

"I know," Rachel nodded, picking at the blanket in her lap.

"You hurt my feelings, Rachel," Quinn said honestly, her eyes watering.

The brunette scrubbed her hands over her face and nodded as another wave of guilt washed through her. "I seem to be doing a lot of that today," she choked out before the sobs took over.

Brushing aside her own hurt feelings, she folded her arms around Rachel and let her cry.

"I'm sorry," Rachel sniffled as the crying jag came to a slow end.

"I know," Quinn murmured against her hair. "Tell me what happened."

So she did.

She told her everything—starting with the tambourine and the kiss in the snow all the way through to him walking away from her tonight. And when she was done, she felt like a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders. (Though she still had the weight of an elephant on her chest over her fight with Puck—and that fucking _hurt _so badly she could barely breathe.)

Once Rachel was finished, Quinn took a minute to let everything soak in before tipping Rachel's chin up until her eyes met hers. "You really like him," she said, more as a statement than a question.

"I do," Rachel said, nodding meekly.

Quinn answered her nod with one of her own. "Okay then. Let's figure out how to fix this."

"I love you, Quinn," Rachel told her sincerely, hugging her best friend.

"Love you, too, brat."

* * *

Puck staggered up the stairs to his apartment (whiskey at the corner bar hadn't made him feel any better, in case you were wondering) and fumbled with the keys in the lock. As he struggled to see one row of locks instead of three, he was reminded of a better time when he had Rachel pressed between him and the door while he hurried to get the locks undone.

_Fuck._

He walked into the apartment (finally) and slammed the door closed behind him. The TV was on (had he forgotten to turn it off?) and he took two steps before tripping over a suitcase he sure as shit didn't leave in the middle of the goddamn floor. "Ow! Motherfucker!" he swore heatedly.

Footsteps sounded across the floor and laughter soon followed.

"Hey, bro," she greeted casually, licking ice cream from her spoon.

Puck lifted his bleary eyes into the amused face of his sister. "Sarah—what the _fuck_?"

"Surprise!" She extended a hand to help him up off the floor. (Hey, it was the least she could do seeing as he tripped over _her _suitcase that she'd forgotten to move—oops!) "Up you go, fat ass," she grunted.

"I hate you," he groused, pulling her into a hug once he was upright.

"Same goes," she grinned, patting his cheek and taking in the bloodshot eyes and the stench of whiskey. "Rough night?"

He flashed a murderous look that explicitly told her they were _not_ talking about it. "What are you doing here?"

"I needed to get the hell out of Ohio for a while," Sarah informed him. "Guy trouble," she shrugged.

"Fair enough," Puck grumbled, reminded of his own fucking problems. He scrubbed a hand over his face, "How the fuck did you get in here?"

Sarah shrugged carelessly, spooning another huge bite of ice cream into her mouth. "Boobs and tears."

Puck rolled his eyes. "Jesus," he muttered. "Does Ma know you're here?"

"Sure," she said, not meeting his eyes.

"Goddammit, Sarah, I'm not in the mood for this shit right now. You're calling her tomorrow," he snapped. "I'm going to bed."

"Nice to see you, too, brother," she retorted sourly, wondering why he was being an even bigger asshole than usual.

Puck crossed the apartment to his bedroom and kicked the door closed behind him.

He just wanted to forget this fucking day ever happened. (He didn't think there was enough whiskey in the world to accomplish that task though.) And now his sister (whom he loved, no really) was here running from God knows which loser boyfriend and—_fuck_—it made his brain hurt.

Stripping down to his boxers, he collapsed face down on his bed as his phone beeped with a new message. Groaning, he rolled over and saw _Smalls_ on the ID.

He almost deleted it. (And almost threw it against the brick wall in his room.)

Instead he sighed and opened the message. (Because he was a fucking glutton for punishment. _Obviously_.)

_It's not just sex to me, Noah._

_I'm sorry._

_Please call me._

Well, fuck.

That was unexpected.

The ache in his chest lessened instantly, though the throbbing in his brain was like a goddamned freight train. _Stupid whiskey_. He decided he was better off just going to sleep right now; he'd talk to her tomorrow.

Then they could hopefully figure this shit out.

* * *

Feedback = love

If you need a mental image of Sarah P., I'm picturing Sophia Bush. And some were wondering about Drew, and I picture Jon Groff. ;)

Stay tuned!


	18. Let it Burn

A/N: Thank you all so much for the reviews and alerts. I apologize that this update took so long to get out. I will let you know now that I've got a big event at work this week so there will be no writing done by me until at least the end of this month. Please don't hate me.

I had tons and tons of help with this chapter. You know who you are and I thank you ever so much.

* * *

Rachel woke up the next morning and was temporarily confused by her surroundings. She wasn't at home; that much she deduced immediately. After rubbing her eyes and blinking the sleep away, she realized she was in Quinn's guest room; the same room that she'd occupied for a while after her apartment building caught fire. The same fire that brought Puck into her life.

She grabbed her phone and felt a twinge of pain deep in her chest when she saw that he hadn't responded to her text. As she sat up and rubbed her hands over her face, she had no recollection of even getting into bed. Granted it had been an emotional rollercoaster the night before, but the last thing she remembered was Quinn bringing her some tea and tossing some pajamas at her while she worried (and cried) over whether she'd messed things up irrevocably.

All she knew right now was that she needed to talk to Noah and attempt to fix this mess they were in (because of her stupid mouth). She had some time to spare before rehearsals, so she decided she'd grab breakfast on the way to his apartment to bring as a small peace offering.

After pulling on the spare outfit she kept at Quinn's place (just in case), she pulled her hair back into a messy ponytail and cleared the smudges from last night's makeup before hurrying out of the room.

Quinn and Finn were making breakfast when she heard Rachel turning the locks on the front door. "Hold it!" she barked, stepping out of the kitchen.

Rachel stopped and whirled to face her friend. She felt an enormous amount of guilt over the secret she'd kept from her for so long; and she knew she hadn't deserved the comfort her friend gave her the night before. But that's why Quinn was her best friend—she was amazing and forgiving. "Hi," Rachel said sheepishly.

"Where are you going?" Quinn asked, folding her arms across her chest.

"Noah's," Rachel answered, slipping her coat over her shoulders.

Quinn arched a perfectly shaped brow. "Did he call?"

Rachel's face fell into a frown. "No," she muttered. "But I'm going over there to apologize."

The blonde nodded and toyed with the tie on her robe. In all honesty, she was still upset over everyone keeping the truth from her, but it wouldn't do any good to hold on to that. She loved her friend and wanted her to be happy. If Puck made her happy, then who was she to judge? "Good luck," she said finally, lifting her eyes to look at her friend, offering a tiny smile.

A grateful smile washed over Rachel's face; she walked over and threw her arms around Quinn. "Thanks, Quinn. I will make this up to you somehow."

"I know," Quinn sighed dramatically, earning a giggle from her friend. "Hey, Hudson," she called into the kitchen.

Finn poked his head out and smiled at the two. "Yeah?"

"Is your friend going to be an idiot or is he going to do the right thing and forgive my friend?" Quinn asked him.

He scratched his face and looked between the two, uncomfortable at having been put on the spot. "I, uh, well…" he trailed off, noticing the way Rachel's face fell when he did so; Quinn scowled at him. "Look, you're…you know…hot, and he doesn't really stay mad for long. I'm sure if you just go over…well, everything will…you know…blow over." Casting his eyes to Quinn, his lips twitched at her approving nod.

The girls exchanged amused looks before Rachel smiled at him. "Thanks, Finn. Okay, I'm going to go," she announced, heading for the door.

"Call me," Quinn yelled after her.

* * *

She took the stairs two at a time, being careful with the cups of hot coffee in her hands. Tucked under her arm was a bag of fresh bagels and cream cheese from a bakery down the street she knew he liked.

The entire trip to his apartment she practiced her speech (in a thousand different ways) and she hoped that he had cooled off enough from the night before to at least hear her out. Uncertainty over which version of the speech she was going to give niggled in her brain and stressed her out as she rounded the final flight of stairs to his floor. _You can do this, Rachel,_ she assured herself. All she had to do was tell him the truth. And that truth was that she had real feelings for him and she wanted to see where this thing (_relationship_…she needed to get used to that word) between them could go.

Simple enough.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she inhaled deeply through her nose and exhaled slowly through her mouth a few times in a vain attempt to calm the nerves raging manically in her stomach. With one last _you can do it_ in her head, she lifted a fisted hand and knocked.

* * *

The incessant knocking on the door woke a sleeping Sarah Puckerman and that annoyed the _shit_ out of her. Didn't whoever was on the other side of that door realize that she was in the middle of an _emotional crisis_ and had come to New York to escape? That 7:45am was _way too fucking early_ to show up at someone's apartment unannounced and disturb her? (so what if it wasn't _her_ apartment) She snuggled back into the couch and pulled the blanket up over her head, deciding to let her brother deal with the disturbance. Hearing the water running in the shower and another knock at the door, she kicked off the blanket in a huff and stomped over to the door, muttering under her breath the ways in which she planned to annihilate the person on the other side.

Jerking open the door, she came face to face with a very pretty and petite brunette, whose facial expression dropped into a frown the moment she laid eyes on someone who was clearly not who she'd expected. _Poor girl_, Sarah thought. She'd seen this a hundred times—a girl gets a taste of the Puckerman special and then she wants more, not realizing that the diner's closed to her forever. Normally she'd let the girl down easy, but this chick was turning on some crazy, mean eyes at her _and_ the knocking had cruelly and rudely ripped her from sleep.

"Who are you?" Sarah asked, her husky voice extra gravelly due to a lack of sleep.

Rachel gawped at the stunning woman in the doorway, noting the mussed hair, raspy voice and long, bare legs poking out beneath the FDNY t-shirt (the same shirt she had once worn when she spent the night) "Who are _you_?" Rachel snapped back, her eyes narrowing as her heart begged her head to be wrong about this scene in front of her.

Sarah laughed and combed her hair back out of her face. "Honey, I'm the one that spent last night here—not you. I get to ask the questions when you come knocking on the door first thing in the morning disturbing the peace."

The woman confirmed Rachel's worst fears and the sudden urge to vomit was overwhelming. _One fight_. That was all it took for him to throw _everything_ away. _One fucking fight_.

"If you're looking for Puck, he's in the shower," Sarah told her, a wicked smile flirting over her lips. "I can tell him you stopped by, though we don't talk much. You know?" (She wasn't technically lying—she and her brother didn't talk much last night.)

Tears prickled behind her eyes but she willed them back. She would _not_ cry in front of this…this _harlot_. "Here," she bit out, tossing the bag of bagels at the woman. "You can give him those and tell him he can go to hell."

Sarah caught the bag before it hit her in the face and smirked. "Thanks. I'm sure we'll both enjoy these after we work up an appetite." (EW! This was wrong on _so_ many levels.)

Rachel bit down hard on the inside of her lip and shook her head. "Well, by all means, don't let me keep you. Take the coffee, too," she insisted, pushing the cups into her hands. "I hope you both choke on it." She spun on her heel and fled down the stairs as fast as her legs could carry her.

Sarah sighed and shut the door. The dirty work she did for her big bro. This wasn't the first time she'd run this scam on a girl her brother wanted nothing more to do with. It had been his idea in the first place and it was just as fucked up now as it was then. Though the minute she opened the bag and inhaled the delicious smell of raisin bagels, her guilt evaporated. Hell, she knew Noah would probably throw her a damn party when he found out what she'd done. (And scored free breakfast!)

* * *

Puck dressed quickly after his shower, thankful that the hot spray had alleviated the worst of his hangover. (fucking whiskey) He grabbed his cell phone off the night stand and read her text again.

_It's not just sex to me, Noah._

_I'm sorry._

_Please call me._

His thumb hovered over the call button on his phone, but he put it in his pocket instead. He decided that working this out face to face would be better.

Walking out of his bedroom, he found his sister (he'd almost forgotten about her) at the kitchen table smearing cream cheese on a bagel. "Where'd the food come from?" he asked.

"Morning, brother," Sarah smirked, pushing a cup of coffee across the table towards him. "You are going to buy me a present after you hear about the solid I did for you a few minutes ago," she teased in a sing-song voice.

Puck smirked back; his interest was piqued. "Breakfast doesn't warrant presents—especially after you show up here unannounced." When she rolled her eyes he picked up the coffee and drank. "If it's not breakfast, then what is this _solid_ that you did for me?" he inquired.

Sarah chewed thoughtfully, taking her time in answering simply because she knew it drove him crazy. "Some chick stopped by and I got rid of her for ya. Ran #47 in the ol' Puckerone Playbook. She looked appropriately shocked and even handed—okay _tossed_ these bagels at me. That's better than most; at least I didn't get my hair pulled this time. Though she did say she hoped we choke on this coffee. Oh, and that you can go to hell," she finished with a tart smile. "You're still an asshole, bro." She eyed him lazily, wondering why he wasn't laughing but rather looked like he wanted to beat her ass. _Uh oh_.

"What the _fuck_ did you do, Sarah? What did she look like?" he glowered. (He didn't need her to tell him—there was only one person it could have possibly been)

"Really pretty, actually. Classy. Way better than the skanks you usually bang. She had really long, dark hair, big brown eyes, full lips." She glanced at the coffee cup in her hand and saw _Rachel_ written on the side; she turned it around for him to see. "Guessing it was Rachel," she supplied, wondering why that name sounded so familiar where he was concerned. _Rachel…Rachel_, she kept repeating in her head. _Oh. Crap. _"Is this—_Jewish Rachel_ that Mom won't stop yammering on and on about?"

"_Fuck!_" he bellowed, throwing his cup of coffee at the cabinets full throttle, spraying it everywhere. He pulled out his phone and dialed her phone number, immediately getting her voicemail. (he wasn't surprised) "Goddammit! Sarah, what the hell is wrong with you?"

"Nothing," she cried, pushing to her feet and slapping her hands on the table. "I just did what you've had me do way too many times in my life. How the hell was I supposed to know that you went and got yourself a girlfriend?"

"She's not—just—_fuck_, Sarah! Things were already a mess and you made it about a thousand times worse. _Jesus fucking Christ!_" he spat, dragging a hand through his hair.

"Noah, I'm _sorry_! If I had known, I would never—"

Puck shook his head and glared at his little sister, his hand dropping carelessly to his side. "You're such a fucking train wreck! Just _go home_, Sarah. I can't deal with you or your fucking problems right now."

Grabbing his keys off the counter, he stalked towards the door, tugging his coat on before slamming out of the apartment. He hoped it wasn't too late to fix things with Rachel.

He wondered, as he ran down the stairs, why he hadn't just called her last night. _Fuuuuuuuck!_

* * *

She stalked down the street, the ire bubbling dangerously up through her body. Gone were the hot, angry tears that stung her eyes while standing in his doorway. Gone was the urge to throw up. The only thing she really wanted to do right now was hit something—maybe starting with the skank he'd screwed last night all because of some pathetic misunderstanding.

She'd like to hit him—_of course_. (that went without saying)

But the person she wanted to hit most at the moment? _Was herself_. She wished for Doc Brown and DeLorean in order to go back in time and slap some sense into herself and let her past self know that no good would come from sleeping with that asshole.

Maybe she could just stop and ram her head into the side of a building repeatedly for being so goddamn _stupid_! She knew—_she knew_ what kind of guy he was going into this. Hell, he'd told her himself. And Quinn warned her (repeatedly). She didn't even want anything more than sex at the start of this; but fucking _feelings_ developed anyway.

_Sonofabitch_!

Tears prickled behind her eyes as she neared the theater. She blinked furiously, refusing to cry over that no good lothario. Taking a few deep breaths, she (miraculously) kept the tears at bay.

Her cell phone rang (again). She glanced at it…ignored it (again). "Get a fucking clue and stop calling!" she swore to the device, earning stares from passersby. _Fuck them_.

Life was still good (great even) and she needed to remember that. She had an amazing career that she loved and could focus all of her extra time back into. Noah Puckerman could fuck _right off_ if he thought for one second that _this _could distract her from realizing the dreams she'd had since childhood. He'd been fun for a while, but it was over now.

Time to refocus.

_Broadway. Tony. Stardom. _

Swallowing the lump in her throat (and taking approximately fifteen more deep breaths) she steeled her spine and entered the theater ready to face the day full of hard work and entertaining an adoring audience.

* * *

"Goddammit!" he bit out when he got her voicemail again. "Rachel, _please_ call me. What you saw this morning is not what you think it was. That was my stupid sister thinking she was funny. I want to see you, alright? Just—just call me, okay? Please."

Puck shoved his phone into the pocket of his coat and walked up the steps of the subway station closest to Rachel's apartment. He was going to get her to talk to him. And even if she didn't answer the door, he thought as his hand closed around his keys, he had his own way in now.

Jesus, this was a mess.

Fuck.

His long strides ate up the distance to her building rather quickly. And with each step he took he scolded himself for being such a fucking prick to her the night before. Not that how he felt at the time had been unwarranted, because he was legitimately pissed off (and _yes_, she'd hurt his feelings, okay), but he should've stuck around long enough for them to talk it out.

_Coulda, shoulda, woulda_.

He trudged up the steps to her apartment and knocked softly on the door. When there was no answer after a few moments, he debated on whether or not to knock again or use the key she'd given him. Knowing she most likely wouldn't answer, he plucked the keys from his pocket and let himself inside.

Nothing hit him in the face once he was through the door, so he figured she either wasn't home or she was hiding. "Rachel?" he called, his voice echoing through the modest space. The apartment was exceptionally quiet, which was the exact opposite of everything in Rachel Berry's life. Frowning, he walked into her bedroom.

No sign of her anywhere. _Dammit_.

He was about to walk out the way he came in, but something on her mirror (oh, the mirror) caught his eye. It was a picture of the two of them from the Colts game that she'd taped up. He had his arm slung carelessly around her shoulders and a crooked grin on his face. She was pressed up against his side, her hand on his chest and beaming for the camera. He'd forgotten about taking that picture right before halftime.

Fuck. He needed to fix this.

It dawned on him that it was Thursday and she had rehearsals; he decided to head to the theater and make her talk to him. Snatching the picture from her mirror, he peeled the tape off the back before tucking it safely into the pocket of his coat.

His phone blared to life when he was turning the last lock on her door; he scrambled for it hoping it was Rachel. A scowl broke out over his face when he saw that the captain was calling. He was on call and had to take it.

Being on call licked ass.

"S' Puckerman," he answered gruffly. He listened as the captain barked into his ear (a major blaze at a warehouse) and ordered him to _get his ass to the station pronto_. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he knew he didn't have a choice. "Give me twenty," he bit out before clicking off.

"Fuck me sideways," he grumbled, lumbering down the stairs.

* * *

Rachel was midway through rehearsing _All That Jazz_ when her voice cracked unexpectedly.

Random flashes of her time with Puck flooded her mind—their fight from the night before; him telling dirty jokes until she couldn't breathe; watching him perform _Thunder Road_; their first real kiss as snow fell around them.

She tried to shake it off, to maintain her composure and her professionalism (two things she prided herself on). More flashes. Singing with _Fire Extinguishers_;the Colts game; _after _the Colts game; seeing him exit that bathroom stall the night of Quinn's birthday; that woman answering his door while wearing his t-shirt.

Her face flushed hot and her throat tightened with tears.

Then the floodgates opened.

For the first time ever in her life she let her personal problems affect her performance. She stopped on stage and doubled over, choking on sobs.

_How did everything get so messed up so fast?_

***

Puck stormed into the station and jerked open his locker, pulling out his gear.

"Puck, hey!" Finn called, walking into the room.

He shrugged out of his jacket and spared his friend a quick glance. His response was a non-committal grunt.

"Did you and Rachel work things out?" The murderous look he received in turn told him the answer. "Oh—um, well, what—what the hell happened?"

"My goddamn sister happened," he spewed venomously, pulling on his protective gear. Knowing Finn wouldn't let it go until he had the whole story, he gave him a quick synopsis of the details.

"Dude, just explain that to Rachel. I'm sure she'll understand."

Puck rolled his eyes. "Thanks for the tip, Einstein," he said acidly. :She won't answer her goddamn phone."

"Puckerman! Hudson! Let's get a fucking move on!" the Captain bellowed.

Slamming his locker closed, he headed for the rig with Finn and the other guys close behind. Not even fighting a big blaze was going to improve his mood today.

* * *

Three hours later, Puck was hot and tired and really motherfucking pissed at absolutely _anything _and _everything_—the sound of fire, the smell of the fire, his sister, Rachel for not answering her phone, Finn for his constant _everything will be okay_ _and the sun shines out of his ass_ attitude, his captain, this old ass musty warehouse for catching fire, faulty wiring, Chang's jokes, Matt's excessive silence, Jack Daniels for his fucking headache (himself, but that went without saying).

He turned the nozzle on the hose and blasted a wall of flames, the tension in his jaw coiled so tight he thought the bones would snap if he bit down any harder. The only tiny silver lining to this shittastic day was that this fucking fire was just about contained. Once their unit arrived and started working in tandem with the other firemen, things progressed quickly. Puck guessed that another hour or two and they could go the fuck home.

"More slack, Rutherford," he barked, pulling on the hose. He turned the corner and heard a loud, thundering rumble overhead. Stopping, he looked up just in time to watch the ceiling cave in before his world went black.

* * *

Rachel walked back stage with a smile on her face. The show had gone off without a hitch and if she had to critique her own performance, she'd have to say that it was one of her best. (seriously) The earlier bout of extremely unprofessional behavior could now be swept under the rug.

She was Rachel Berry.

And she was a star.

"Great show, Rach," Alice grinned, hugging her quickly.

"You, too, Ali," Rachel replied. "Thanks for everything earlier," she told her earnestly. (Just because she was ready to move on didn't mean she was ungrateful for her co-stars' kindness)

"Oh, honey, absolutely. You let me know if I need to kick some ass for you. I'll do it!"

Rachel chuckled. She had no doubt that the little spitfire meant it. "I will. Have a great night."

"You, too."

She grabbed her bag and pulled out her phone. She expected to have missed calls (he'd called her all morning, but had stopped trying after the voicemail he left that she hadn't bothered to listen to), but there were five from Quinn and ten from Finn. Her phone vibrated in her hand and she saw Finn's name pop up on the ID.

So, what? Puck was having Finn do his dirty work for him now? Rolling her eyes, she hit _accept _and decided to give him a piece of her mind. "Finn, whatever it is that your best friend has to say, I don't want to hear it. The woman in his apartment this morning made it abundantly clear that whatever we had is officially over."

"Rachel, listen—"

"No, you listen, Finn, and perhaps you should put this on speaker so he can hear this, too. I'm sure he's with you. I want _nothing _more to do with Noah Puckerman. I was a complete fool to ever start anything with him in the first place and—"

"Goddammit, Rachel!" Finn barked. "Shut the fuck up and listen to me for a minute."

Rachel's mouth snapped shut and she heard the panic in Finn's voice. She'd never heard him speak that way before. (to anyone ever)

"There was an accident at work today."

Her throat went dry. "An accident? What kind of accident?" An accident like Puck tripped over a hose and chipped a tooth? An accident like he got hit by a bus crossing the street? An accident like his dick caught fire from fucking that other girl last night? He didn't have his protective gear on and has smoke inhalation?

There was a long, pregnant pause. "Dammit, Finn, what kind of accident?"

"How fast can you get to Lenox Hill Hospital?"

His avoidance of any kind of answer made her heart stop. "On my way," she blurted, ending the call.

She grabbed her bag and her coat and flew out the door.

* * *

A/N II: Okay, please don't hate me. I know it's mean, but remember, I LIKE happy. Really. Things WILL get better in the next chapter. I PROMISE. So...perhaps the death threats could be kept to a minimum? :D


	19. It Hurts Me Too

**A/N: **_Wow, so, long time no update. I really apologize. The work event was even crazier than expected and then the next week I had some time off and of course my baby got sick. Sigh. Anyway, I found once I started writing I was pretty darn rusty. This chapter is also a little shorter than I had planned, but it was a good stopping point and it allowed me to, you know, UPDATE finally. I greatly appreciate all of your reviews and messages asking about this story. I'm so sorry that life has been so crazy and I didn't get to respond the way I usually do. I'm still so humbled that y'all like this story so much. Oh, and thanks for not lynching me for leaving you with such a terrible cliffhanger. :D_

_I have approximately 10 skillion people to thank on this chapter, but I was Needy von Neederstein even more so than usual. So, here we go! Mandy, you're a rock star and ILU; Becca, you, too, are awesome for helping and making me laugh; Sheena, I bow to your Puckleberry greatness; Vette & Nicole for your cray cray; Jenna, Jessica and Rachel...thanks for the hand-holding. (See? Sweet Lord, I'm a needy b*tch.)_

_I own nothing related to Glee, sadly._

Ice cold panic coursed through her veins as she managed to move one foot in front of the other down the hospital corridor, her heels clacking along the tile. Her mind whirred a million miles a minute over the possibilities that awaited her. Whatever the outcome, she knew it wasn't good (couldn't possibly be) otherwise Finn would have told her over the phone that he was okay.

_Did he get…?_

_Was he going to…?_

_Oh God._

She wouldn't think that way (she _couldn't_). No matter what transpired between them in the last 24 hours, he was a part of her life and right now he was hurt and needed her support.

The rest really didn't matter.

Rachel rushed around the corner and instantly spotted Finn and Quinn in the waiting area. She swallowed the gigantic lump in her throat and braced herself for _whatever _it was she was about to hear.

"Finn! Quinn!" she called, her voice sounding foreign as it passed her lips. "What happened? How is he?"

Both heads snapped up and peered back curiously at her. "What are you wearing?" Finn asked, his brows knitting together.

Rachel looked down and saw fishnet stockings, realizing that in her haste to leave the theater, she'd forgotten to change out of her Velma Kelly costume. _Jesus_. "It doesn't matter. Tell me, Finn—what happened to Noah?"

Finn scrubbed one hand over his face while Quinn grabbed supportively at his other one. "We got called in to help out with an old warehouse blaze. Puck was ahead of us and the ceiling collapsed."

Rachel gasped and sank down into the chair across from Finn.

"A beam landed on his chest and—I'm so sorry, Rachel. He's my—I should've had his back," he told her, looking down at the worn carpet beneath his boots.

She slumped over and buried her face in her hands. "Where is he now?" she whispered.

"Surgery," Finn muttered. "The impact from the beam punctured a lung and broke some of his ribs. The ER doc suspected internal bleeding and they took him to surgery."

"Was he burned at all?" she asked, her stomach flipping over at the thought.

Finn just shook his head, slowly lifting his eyes until they landed on hers. "He asked for you—before he lost consciousness—he wanted me to—"

"I finally found the cafeteria," Sarah huffed, interrupting and striding into the waiting room with three cups of coffee in her hands.

Rachel's head snapped up towards the unmistakable voice she'd heard that morning (God, that felt like a lifetime ago) before everything went to shit. If Noah had been asking for her, then what the _hell _was _she_ doing here?

"Rachel?" she asked, tilting her head to the side and studying her.

"Yes," Rachel clipped, all set to launch into a heated tirade before the hussy cut her off.

"Oh my God! I'm so glad you're here. I've wanted to apologize to you all day." She handed Quinn and Finn the coffee and dropped down in the seat next to Rachel. "I'm Sarah Puckerman—Noah's sister."

"Noah's—" Rachel trailed off, letting her words wash over her. It was then that she finally noticed the resemblance. (the eyes were a dead giveaway) _His sister_. Then that meant…he hadn't…thank _God_. "You're his sister?" she asked, needing confirmation.

Sarah's lips quirked in true Puckerman fashion. "I am."

Rachel leaned back in the chair, her head resting against the padding. "His sister," she repeated dryly to the ceiling tiles. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. (or to hug or hit) Snapping upright again, she turned heated eyes on the gorgeous brunette. "But you made me think—"

Sarah held up her hand. "I know—hence the need to apologize. I had no idea that my brother had finally grown the fuck up and gotten himself a girlfriend. So…sorry about that. He was _really _pissed at me."

As relief surged through her, she wondered how she hadn't noticed the similarities between them earlier. "It's all right, Sarah. Thank you for telling me the truth."

"You want some coffee? I'll go get you some," Sarah offered.

"No thank you," Rachel shook her head.

Looking back to Finn, she felt her heart break. The worried expression he wore was the saddest thing she'd ever seen. That look only served to increase her own worry over Noah. "Finn?" She waited until he met her eyes. "I—what were you trying to tell me earlier?"

A ghost of a smile flashed over his lips. "He wanted me to tell you about this brat," he said, gesturing to Sarah.

"Shut it, Hudson," she rasped, flipping him off.

Rachel couldn't handle the banter at the moment, so she pushed to her feet and walked over to the window. Pressing her forehead to the cool glass, she watched the lights of the city below and said a quiet prayer for Noah. It wasn't something she did often, but if there was ever a time for prayer, now was it.

"Hey," Quinn said softly behind her.

"Hey," Rachel murmured, blinking away the moisture that gathered on her lashes. She turned and let her friend envelop her into a tight hug.

"Doing okay?" Quinn asked softly.

Rachel's shoulders shrugged noncommittally. "I'm just worried about him."

"I know." She knew it could have just as easily been Finn that had gotten hurt and that thought she shoved way, way back into the recesses of her mind. "Can I get you anything?"

Rachel pulled back and shook her head. "Well, on second thought," she said, glancing down at her attire.

"I've already called Kurt," Quinn said, stroking a hand over her friend's short wig. "He's on his way with some clothes for you, Velma."

Rachel snorted out a laugh as fat tears rolled down her cheeks. "I just ran out of there; as soon as Finn told me he'd been hurt I just—I had to be here. No matter what happened, or _didn't _happen," she said, casting a furtive glance over at Sarah.

Quinn nodded sympathetically and brushed her friend's tears away. "I know, sweetie."

"He's going to be okay," Rachel said adamantly, jutting out her chin. "He's too much of a stubborn ass to not be."

A smile tugged at the corners of Quinn's mouth. "That's the right attitude." She noticed a doctor approach Finn and she grasped Rachel's hand for support and pulled her in that direction. "Come on, let's go find out how he's doing."

Blood roared in her ears so loudly she nearly missed the words _full recovery _passing through the doctor's lips. "What?" she asked, blinking owlishly.

The doctor gave her a reassuring smile. "I said that the surgery went well and your friend is young and strong; and while it'll be a slow one, he'll make a full recovery."

Breath whooshed out of her lungs and the weight that had been pressing down on her shoulders vanished. "Thank you, doctor," she smiled gratefully.

"Can we see him?" Finn asked.

"He's still pretty out of it, but you can go in one at a time. Keep it short—he needs his rest."

"Of course," Rachel nodded. "You should go in first," she said, turning to Sarah.

Sarah shook her head and folded her arms around her body. "No, you go. He doesn't want to see me right now and to be totally honest, now that I know that pain in the ass is going to be all right, I'm back to being mad at him."

"Sarah!" Finn sighed, cocking his head to the side.

"What? It's true," she snapped indignantly. "Don't get me wrong, I'm completely thrilled that he's okay, but he told me I was a train wreck—_not cool_. Besides, he'd want to see Rachel first anyway. I'm gonna go call Ma and let her know how he's doing." With a tight-lipped smile, she clutched her cell phone and walked away from the group.

Finn frowned. He'd known Sarah her entire life and she was every ounce as stubborn as her big brother. He knew when to cut his losses. "Rachel, go on in. I'll call the guys at the station."

She felt Quinn squeeze her hand reassuringly. "Good luck. I'll bring your clothes when Kurt arrives."

"Thanks, Fabs," Rachel said.

* * *

She ignored the strange looks from the nurses (Yeah, her coat didn't cover up the costume that well—she was _aware_, thanks. And sure, she had about ten pounds of stage makeup on. _Whatever_.) and proceeded down the hall towards his room. Pausing briefly outside his door, she took a deep breath to steady her nerves and walked quietly into the dimly lit space.

He didn't greet her when she entered. In fact, the only sounds in the room were the quiet whirring and beeping of the machine monitoring his vitals. She stepped closer to the bed and saw that his eyes were closed; his handsome face was marred with various bruises and scratches and he sported a large bandage over his right eyebrow.

It was silly (she thought), but he seemed smaller to her somehow lying in that hospital bed. She was certain it was because she'd never seen him vulnerable before. Her heart ached at first, but then she reminded herself that he would make a full recovery. (and it could have been _so_ much worse) Though she half expected for him to sit up in the bed and spout off something horribly inappropriate and mildly (wholly) offensive.

(She found she really _wanted _him to)

Pulling up a chair, she sat beside his bed and reached for his hand, gently holding it between hers and occasionally stroking indiscriminate patterns with her finger.

Rachel wasn't sure how long she sat like that, just holding his hand and watching him sleep. (Seconds? Minutes? An hour?) But eventually she felt his hand stir between hers and heard the deep groan rumbling in his chest. Leaning forward, she rested her elbows on the bed and watched his eyes slowly blink open and survey his surroundings. He turned his head and his eyes settled on her face. "Hi," she whispered, still holding his hand.

Puck's eyelids felt like they weighed a metric ton and he struggled to focus. "S'a good dream," he said groggily. And it was. (had to be) Rachel was in her hot as fuck Velma costume and she was smiling at him. Either it was a dream or he was on some fucking damn good drugs.

Her lips twitched into a smirk and she laughed softly. "You're not dreaming, Noah," she murmured.

He blinked again, felt like he was trying to surface from miles beneath the sea as he attempted to focus on her face. "Rach?" His throat felt as dry as the Sahara.

"I'm here."

"This morning—my sister," he managed before he started coughing. "Fuck that hurts," he groaned, squeezing his eyes tight.

"Shh, shh, shh," she pressed her index finger over his lips and hit his morphine button for him. "I know. Sarah told me everything. Just rest."

He had more he wanted to say, but sleep was _so_ enticing. "Stay."

"I'm not going anywhere, Noah. Just get some rest. We'll figure everything out later."

"Yeah?" he asked with a sleepy, crooked grin.

Even lying in a hospital bed he managed to be sexy. Rachel nodded as a smile stretched across her face. She pushed to her feet and dropped a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth (the only part of his face that wasn't mottled by cuts or purple bruising). "Sleep," she ordered quietly.

"Yes, ma'am," he mumbled, closing his eyes.

She sat with him until his breathing evened out again.

* * *

Rachel slipped quietly from his room and bumped into Finn. "Oh, I'm sorry, Finn," she apologized.

"Don't be. Here," he said, thrusting a bag into her arms. "Kurt brought it."

"Thank you," she smiled gratefully. She couldn't wait to put on normal clothes so people would stop staring at her. (and she'd be a thousand times more comfortable)

"How's he doing?" he asked, nodding towards Puck's room.

"Groggy," she sighed. "He looks terrible—and I _know_ it could have been just so much worse, but still, he's pretty banged up."

Finn hung his head, guilt pouring over him. "I'm sorry. I should've—" he voice cracked as it trailed off.

Rachel frowned. "Finn, stop it; please. This is not your fault. He's going to be fine. Why don't you go sit with him? I'm going to get cleaned up." She offered him an encouraging smile and turned to walk away.

"Hey, Rach?"

"Yes?"

"He went after you today, you know—after Sarah—well, you know, was Sarah. He was on his way to the theater when he got called in."

A weird mix of guilt and happiness settled in the pit of her stomach. She didn't know what else to do other than to nod and murmur a "Thanks, Finn," before hurrying away in the opposite direction.

* * *

Finn walked into the room and occupied the chair Rachel had recently vacated. He felt so guilty seeing his best friend in that damn hospital bed. He should have kept this from happening somehow. Remaining silent for a long time, he finally cleared this throat and tried to find the right words.

"Puck, man, I'm so sorry," he told his sleeping friend. "I should've had your back in there today and I—fuck, I really let you down. You're my partner and my best friend and I should've been watching. I should have known that beam wasn't stable. I should have been there. You would have seen that and had my back." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Fuck, dude—I'm just so damn sorry."

"You're such a fucking pussy, Hudson," Puck croaked, arching a brow in Finn's direction. He tried to grin, but the split on his lip burned and he hissed in protest.

Finn felt his face grow hot and he scratched the stubble on his cheek. "Er, um—_sorry_, I thought you were asleep."

Puck chuckled slightly, not wanting to press his luck or test the limits of his pain medicine just yet. "I should fucking hope so because saying that shit to me while I'm awake ain't kosher, dude."

He took in Finn's frown and creased eyes. Well, hell. He was worried about him. "Hudson, knock it off or I'll kick your ass as soon as I'm outta this joint. It's not your fucking fault that I got hurt." Puck shot him _an I-mean-business_ look, but he wasn't too sure he pulled it off. He had a feeling the hospital bed sorta detracted from his badassness. (Finn's dry laugh all but confirmed it. Fuck!)

"Yeah, alright," he drawled sarcastically. "Just glad you're gonna be okay. I've gotten used to you after all these years—don't have the time or energy to break in a new best friend."

Puck smirked. That was much better than the queer shit he was spewing earlier. He heard a faint knock on the door and Rachel poked her head in through the door, looking like herself again. "Hey," he greeted.

"I thought I told you to get some sleep," she said, a smile flirting over her lips.

"I was," Puck defended, "until Finn here came in and started blubbering like a vagina and woke me up."

"That's my cue," Finn announced. "Get better, dickhead."

"Thanks, bro."

Rachel shook her head, a crooked smile on her face and walked over to the bed, sitting down gingerly beside him. She waved goodbye to Finn and turned back to Noah, who was looking up at her with heavy eyes. "You look terrible," she sighed.

"Fuck, Berry, don't sugar coat it," he groaned, closing his eyes. (Though he was sure he looked as bad as he felt she didn't need to point it out.)

She dropped her forehead to his. "Noah," she breathed, letting their closeness soothe her frayed nerves. "You scared me."

He ran his hand up her arm and tried to laugh it off. "Shoulda listened to you though, Rach—you warned me about those tall trees." Rachel pulled back and frowned down at him; her brows creased together and her eyes went shiny. (Shit) "I'm—you were really worried." (It wasn't a question)

Rachel nodded softly, and felt the stinging in her eyes again. (She didn't let them fall) "Yeah," she replied quietly.

Puck swallowed thickly against the strange lurching in his chest. "Even after everything?" That idea sort of blew his mind left him a little speechless. (and a lot hopeful)

"Yes. Don't you get it?" she asked softly. He raised an eyebrow questioningly. "You're important to me, Noah."

"Rachel," he murmured, a slight smile on his lips. "C'mere." He wanted (needed) to kiss her right then and split lip be damned, he was going to. She leaned down but he didn't have the energy to meet her in the middle. "Gotta help me out here, Smalls," he rasped.

God, he was cute. She grinned and lowered her lips until they gently pressed against his. Her eyes fell closed against the kiss. After last night she wasn't sure she'd get a chance to kiss him again (and especially not after this morning); she was so glad that wasn't the case now.

"Rach," he said when she pulled away. "There's stuff I want to talk about…" he could barely keep his eyes open. "But, fuck all, I'm tired."

"It's all right, Noah, you need to rest," she insisted, cupping the side of his face. "Do you need anything?"

"Just stay," he told her, laying his hand on top of hers.

"Okay," she nodded, moving off the bed. She paused when his hand tightened around her wrist.

"No, I mean get in bed with me," he said sleepily.

Despite the droopy eyes, the look on his face was purely rakish. "No," she answered, biting back a smile.

"You're gonna deny me? I almost died today."

"Noah," Rachel admonished, "That's not funny." Her eyes welled up instantly.

The tears in her eyes made him feel like an ass. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"I'll stay, but I'm sleeping in this chair."

"Don't be retarded, Rachel," he sighed. "Just get in."

"There's not enough room," she argued.

"Fuck that. You're tiny. C'mon…I'll sleep better." He gave her what he thought was a sad puppy dog look. When that didn't work he added "Please?"

"All right, Noah," she conceded, toeing off her shoes. "But if the nursing staff gets mad, I'm blaming you."

"Deal," he smirked to the best of his ability, but the drugs and the exhaustion were rapidly taking hold of him. He noticed her studying him and the bed. "What?" She turned worried brown eyes to him.

"I don't want to hurt you," she said in a tiny voice.

"You won't—I'm on some fucking sweet drugs." He pressed the button again for a morphine boost. "See?"

"Noah," she sighed, exasperated, her eyes falling closed.

"You can sleep on my right side," he answered seriously. "Those ribs aren't broken." He noticed her hesitation again. "Please, Rachel."

It was the _please_ that got her. That and the soft look in his eyes. "Promise me if you wake up and you're uncomfortable you'll tell me to get up. It won't hurt my feelings."

He nodded wordlessly and shifted his body closer to the other side of the bed. He grimaced and swore sharply when pain shot through his chest and side. "M'okay," he muttered, gritting his teeth until the worst of the pain ebbed away.

She shook her head, knowing he wasn't even in the vicinity of okay; but she also knew better than to argue with him right now because he needed his rest. At the very least she could lie with him until he fell asleep and then slip away so he'd be more comfortable. "You're not a very good liar," she mumbled, pulling back the blanket and carefully climbing into the bed beside him. She rolled onto her side and tucked a hand under her cheek and looked at him.

"Wasn't so hard now was it?" he asked, casting a sideways glance in her direction.

She tipped her head back and pressed a kiss just below his earlobe, lingering there for a moment. "I'm really happy that you're (we're) okay," she murmured against his skin.

Puck twined his fingers through hers and squeezed gently. "Thanks, babe."

And for the first time all day, as he slipped into sleep, he felt at peace.


	20. What Is This Feeling?

A/N: Real life continues to demand more and more from me, so I apologize, again, for the delay in posting this. I appreciate you all so much for continuing to read, alert and favorite this story. You're awesome. :)

Many thanks to Mandy and company (you know who you are) for putting up with my cray-cray while I wrote this.

* * *

When he opened his eyes the next morning, he was alone in his hospital bed and there was no sign of Rachel anywhere. He wondered, as he inhaled deeply (big mistake) and swore sharply against the stab of pain, if he'd hallucinated her appearance altogether. (What? Morphine was some trippy shit, okay?)

His whole body hurt, which he supposed was par for the course when a fucking _ceiling_ collapsed on you and rendered you trapped for awhile beneath a heavy ass _beam_. Groping for his _happy button_, he pressed the plunger and didn't hear a beep. Trying again, he met the same result. "The fuck?" he grumbled, dropping it back onto the scratchy blanket. What was the motherfucking point of having the morphine button to dull the pain if it was gonna run the fuck out? "Fucking hospitals."

And now he had to piss something fierce. So he used the invalid buttons (as he called them; and don't think that didn't piss him the fuck off to have to use 'em) on the bed to raise him up. He may have been a badass, but he wasn't a dumbass; he knew better than to try and sit up on his own just yet. ('specially if they were cutting him off the happy drugs already) Managing to stand up out of bed (exerting way more effort than expected) he carefully made it to the adjacent bathroom.

Switching on the fluorescent light, he lowered his lashes against the brightness, allowing his eyes to adjust. Then he looked into the mirror. The reflection was worse than he thought it'd be. Dark bruises and what seemed like a thousand cuts and scrapes covered most of his face. Curious over what was lurking behind the bandage taped to his forehead, he gripped the cheap porcelain sink and leaned in for a closer look. He carefully peeled off the tape and lifted up the gauze, revealing a two-inch gash over his eyebrow that had been stitched multiple times.

He looked like shit.

(Felt like it, too.)

When he came out again, the door to his room opened and in walked Rachel, wearing the same NYU t-shirt and black yoga pants he remembered from the night before and her hair swept up into a messy ponytail. (She was a sight for sore eyes) "Hey," he said, his voice thick and gravelly.

"Hi," Rachel replied softly, closing the door behind her.

"Thought I hallucinated you last night," he smiled wanly.

Her lips quirked up a little. "No, I was here. You look better today."

Puck cocked an eyebrow and stared at her incredulously. "I look like shit," he grumbled, sitting carefully down on the bed. (He wondered how to get back in bed without wincing and looking like a complete fucking pussy. Not that he thought she'd judge, but _shit_.)

"You look better," she repeated, dropping her coat and the bag she was carrying onto a chair. She pulled back the blankets to help him. "I had Finn get some things from your apartment. I figured you'd be more comfortable in sweats and t-shirts than a hospital gown."

"Yeah?" (She was awesome.) "Thanks, Rach."

"You're welcome." Her eyes never left his as she helped him get situated. But she didn't miss the beads of sweat that popped on his forehead nor the clenching of his jaw as he attempted to push his body further up on the bed.

(She didn't comment either.)

"I also had him grab your iPod and some magazines. I didn't know how long you're going to be here, but I didn't want you to get bored." After another grimace, she couldn't keep quiet any longer (you know, about his injuries). "My goodness, Noah, hit the button."

"It's empty," he gruffly replied. "I think they cut me off."

"That's absurd," she shook her head, hitting the call button on his bed. "You just had surgery last night."

"What are you doing?"

"Getting the nurse."

"Yes?" came the voice through the speaker.

"This patient is need of pain medication," Rachel informed authoritatively.

"I'll send a nurse in," was the reply.

"You didn't have to do that, ya know," Puck told her. (He wasn't sorry though that she had.)

"And you don't have to pretend you're not in pain. You were all about the 'sweet drugs' last night," she said, making quotes with her fingers for emphasis.

Puck rolled his eyes and smirked. "Stop bustin' my balls, Berry. Sit," he said, patting the mattress.

Rachel eased down onto the bed beside him. "Sorry," she huffed out. "I switch into overdrive in times like these."

"S'ok," he said with a bleary grin. "It's pretty hot that you're taking care of me."

She smiled then. "You're incorrigible," she sighed, reaching out to gently stroke the side of his face.

"Lean down, I got something to tell you."

There was a mischievous gleam in his tired eyes and she fought off the grin that threatened to split her face in half. (Oh, this man) She leaned down slightly and arched a brow at him, knowing he'd tell her to lean in further still.

"Smalls, c'mon," he all but whined.

She giggled before carefully covering his lips with hers.

"I don't need to knock, Sarah, I'm his mother," Rose Puckerman's voice sounded as she burst into Puck's room. "Noah, sweetie, Mama's here. What the hell is this?" she snapped.

Rachel jerked back, her eyes rounding as she looked down at Puck in a panic; he groaned (whether it was from pain or annoyance she wasn't sure).

"Ma, the fuck are you doing here?" Puck grumbled, his head pressing back into the pillow. His hand rested comfortably on Rachel's thigh.

"Noah Ishmael Puckerman, _don't _you talk to me like that. I hopped on the first flight I could get because I was so worried about you and this is the greeting I get?"

_Fucking Christ_. His mother really should come equipped with a mute button. He slanted his eyes towards Rachel. She looked like she was about to bust a gut from holding in a laugh.

"Ishmael?" she whispered, catching her bottom lip between her teeth. "So _that's_ what the _I _stands for." (She'd guessed Ian; he didn't correct her.)

"Shut it, Smalls," he said grumpily.

"And who's this that's kissing all over you while you should be resting?" Rose demanded, fisting her hands on her hips.

"Your turn," he teased Rachel with a crooked grin. If he didn't think it would hurt, he'd laugh at the scowl on her face right now.

"Oh, Ma, you know who that is. It's _Jewish Rachel_," Sarah said smugly from the doorway.

Puck's eyes snapped to his sister's face and she smiled tartly back. Payback was a bitch. (And so was she) He had to admit this was exceptionally good payback; it was just too fuckin' bad that he was her intended target.

Rachel swallowed the lump in her throat and turned her head, offering his mother her warmest smile. "Hello, Mrs. Puckerman," she said sweetly, tucking a lock of hair back behind her ear.

The older woman's eyes grew wide and shifted rapidly between her son and the girl she'd been hoping he'd get involved with. Her face cracked into a beaming smile and clasped her hands together. "Rachel! How lovely to see you, dear. My Noah didn't tell me that you two were seeing one another."

Puck rolled his eyes. His mother was a fucking lunatic. She'd come barreling into the room, seemingly worried about him, and now her attentions were focused on his…(The girl in his life? Dammit. They needed to have a conversation.)…on Rachel, and he could just _hear _the wheels turning in her crazy head. "Jesus, Ma, did you come all the way here to check on me or to bust my ba—" Three sets of dark, raised eyebrows implored him to not finish his statement. "Chops," he finished lamely. _Damn women_. Then, appearing like a vision for his salvation, a nurse walked in with a cup he knew contained pills.

_Thank fuck._

"Your timing could not be better," he told the middle-aged nurse with a grateful smile, holding his hand out expectantly.

"What are you giving him?" his mother (also a nurse) inquired, folding her arms across her chest.

"Don't answer Nurse Ratched over there," he bit out. "She'd have me on fucking Motrin even if a shark bit off my arm."

Rose's eyes narrowed dangerously and, for the first time, Rachel saw a hint of what Puck was always going on about. (Scary!) She was growing increasingly uncomfortable by the amount of tension in the room circulating around the Puckermans and now the poor nurse caught in the middle. "I'll be back in a bit, Noah," she said, turning back to smile at him. He frowned in response and she damped down the urge to laugh. "I need to go call my director and get some coffee. You and your mother can talk."

"I hate you a little," he whispered darkly.

She did laugh then, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. "I won't be gone long. Rest…" The '_if you can'_ was implied. Rising to her feet, she grabbed her bag and turned to Rose. "Would you like some coffee?"

"Oh, yes, that would be lovely, thank you," Rose smiled kindly.

Rachel nodded and headed out the door.

"I'll just go and help Rachel with the coffee," Sarah said, smiling sweetly to her mother before flicking a sarcastic salute to her brother.

Puck glowered after his sister (she wasn't fooling _anyone_ with her innocent act, least of all him) and tried to drown out the sound of his mother who was now arguing with the nurse about his treatment (_What kind of hospital is this? Don't tell me to lower my voice_. _Noah, tell the nurse I'm not talking too loud.)_

Damn it all. He wanted some peace and quiet and he thought the Ramones summed it up best: _I wanna be sedated._

Fucking A.

* * *

Rachel hung up with her director with the next two days off from the show. (Holly, her understudy, was going to be thrilled) Now she was free to spend time with Noah while he was in the hospital. The thought that he might not even want her to briefly flashed in her mind. But just as quickly as that thought had appeared it was gone again. He told her he wanted her around (last night proved that) and that's where she wanted to be. Around _him_. Still though, before everything went to hell in a hand basket, she'd wanted to have a conversation with him to figure out where their relationship was headed. Sighing as she dropped her cell back into her bag, she decided to worry about that later.

He needed to get better (and survive the visit from his mother and sister) first.

She'd just be around without adding anymore stress to his life.

"Rachel," a voice called behind her.

She turned and saw Sarah approaching.

"Sarah." Rachel gave her a tight-lipped smile.

Sarah's lips quirked into a wry grin. "You don't like me much, do you?" she asked in an amused, husky voice.

"I don't even know you, so I would say that it's a little early to pass that kind of judgment. Wouldn't you?" Rachel folded her arms across her body and leaned against the wall. When Sarah's brow arched sky high, she looked so much like her brother that Rachel snorted out a laugh. "The eyebrow arch must be a Puckerman family trait. That and your good looks."

Sarah smiled brightly from the compliment and pulled Rachel away from the wall. "Let me buy you some coffee. It's the least I can do after fucking things up between you and my brother."

Rachel opened her mouth to insist that it wasn't necessary, but she really thought Sarah had a point. (And she was Noah's sister) So she flashed a crooked grin and said, "I agree."

Laughing, Sarah linked her arm through Rachel's. "Your pitiful taste in men aside, Rachel, I think I like you."

* * *

"…and you need to consider a new profession, Noah," his mother said, her hands still firmly planted on her hips. "I mean it."

She'd been bitching at him for a good five minutes about how badly he scared her and how he could have been killed. He caught every other sentence or so and the only reason he hadn't told her to _shut the fuck up_ already was that the pain meds were finally kicking in and she was marginally less grating than normal.

"Quit overreacting, woman," Puck grumbled. "And sit the hell down already. You're stressing me the fuck out with all this pacing. I'm the one in the damn hospital, you know. Show some sympathy or something for your first born. Christ." Her nostrils flared and her eyes narrowed. _Fuck_. "Sorry, it's the drugs," he mumbled sheepishly.

"Between you and Sarah it's a wonder I have any hair left at all," she sniffed, running her fingers through her stylish bob. "As it is now, it's just far grayer than it should be. And these wrinkles," she complained, pushing at her face. "Oy!"

Puck rolled his eyes. His mother had been dying her hair forever and there wasn't one gray hair (or wrinkle) in sight. "Knock it off, Rose. I've seen the jaws drop in temple when you walk by, which is fucking disturbing as hell for me since I'm _your son_ but where the hell do you think your kids' good looks came from?" When she pursed her lips to ward off the threatening grin, he winked at her.

He hadn't expected her eyes to well up with tears. Damn it all. "Ma, I'm sorry I scared you but no tears. Come on. I've had my fill the last few days."

Rose sniffled and blinked back the tears that stung her eyes. "What do you mean _few days_? You were admitted last night. Please tell me you aren't screwing things up with that wonderful girlfriend of yours."

"Girlfr—no, Ma," he shook his head. "Rachel's not my girlfriend." But even as the words left his mouth he was 99.9% sure he was lying. (And the truth wasn't nearly as scary as it used to be.) He figured his mother would call him on his shit. (She usually did) What he didn't expect, however, was the insane cackling that burst forth from her lips. (See? Bitch be c_razy_.) He rolled his eyes at her and she laughed even harder. (Didn't know that was even possible)

"Oh, Noah," she sighed, shaking her head as her laughter subsided. "My stupid, handsome boy."

"Hey," he protested.

"Noah," she said flatly, "you're my son and I love you dearly, but you're an idiot if you think that girl that was kissing you when I walked in this morning is just another notch on your belt."

His lips turned down and he gave her a withering look.

She ignored him and pressed on. "How long have you two been sleeping together?"

Puck visibly winced from her candor. He knew she wasn't stupid (and he was an adult _thankyouverymuch_); and she'd caught him with numerous chicks back in the day when he still lived under her roof, but having this conversation with his _mother_ was weirding his shit out.

"Ma! _Jesus Christ_. Stop!"

"Am I offending your delicate sensibilities, Noah?" she inquired, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

He scowled and thought seriously about telling her just how _not _delicate his sensibilities were and detailing all of the downright _filthy_ things precious _Jewish Rachel_ let him do to her; but he was pretty sure that they'd never be able to make eye contact again. "Seriously, Rose. Quit torturing me. I'm in the fucking hospital in case you'd forgotten."

"You have a disgustingly foul mouth, Noah," she said sharply. "Okay, fine, how long have you and Rachel been…you and Rachel?"

The way he saw it, he had exactly two options (neither of which were super appealing). One, he could lie (he _was_ good at it), but she was exceptionally good at detecting his lies (years of experience, that one) and she'd most likely start nagging until he chopped his goddamn ears off for relief. Two, he could be _honest_ with her (novel idea) and maybe (just maybe) ask her advice where Rachel was concerned. "What are the chances you'll just leave me alone about Rachel?" Her arched eyebrow gave him all the answer he needed. "Two months," he mumbled.

Her jaw dropped and she stared at him completely perplexed. He was starting to squirm under her gaze and then she laughed again, big and bright. She didn't say anything; she just patted his cheek and stood up, still chuckling as she headed for the door.

"What the actual fuck, Ma?" he asked sourly. She just shook her head, laughed some more, and walked out the door.

He threw his hands up in exasperation and groaned.

Damn yenta.

* * *

Rachel had just slid into the chair across the table from Sarah and lifted the cardboard cup to her lips when Sarah opened her mouth. "The story of you and my brother…Go!"

Grinning over the top of her cup, she regarded his sister. "What do you want to know?"

"Ma said you met when he rescued you from your apartment. Is that true? Because that lady is loco sometimes and I figured she was probably embellishing the truth."

"You two aren't very nice to your mother," Rachel chuckled.

"Don't get me wrong, I love her to death, but really—" she trailed off and made the universal sign for crazy circling her finger around her temple.

Rachel just shook her head. "I didn't need to be rescued, but yes, I did meet him when my building was on fire and I was stupidly trying to get my neighbor's cat."

"You ran into a burning building for a fucking cat?" Sarah asked dubiously.

The similarities between Noah and Sarah kept piling up and Rachel found it highly amusing and just a little scary. Laughing she nodded. "I know. It was beyond stupid. Your brother told me as much; multiple times."

"I'm sure he was just super charming about it, too," Sarah said dryly, drumming her manicured nails on the table.

"About as charming as a caveman," Rachel retorted, making Sarah snort into her cup.

"How long before you two started swimming in the sheets?"

Rachel choked a little on her coffee. "My, you're certainly direct, aren't you?"

The youngest Puckerman smirked. "I see no point in being otherwise," she answered. "Besides, you're forgetting that I know how Puck operates. His MO is bedding gorgeous women. You know, until now." She saw the frown appear on Rachel's face. "Shit. That's not how that was supposed to come out _at all_. You're beautiful and frankly could do so much better than my asshole brother."

Rachel's eyes narrowed. "Forgive me for asking since I don't have siblings, but aren't you supposed to, you know, stick up for each other?"

Sarah waved her off like it was nothing. "Puck and I fight like cats and dogs and have virtually ever since I popped out of Rose's womb. But I know he's got my back if I need it and I'll do the same for him. Take yesterday for example. I had no clue about you and just fell back on old habits when you showed up at his door. That's the kind of shit he's had me do in the past. I really am so sorry about that. You should have seen how mad he was. I thought he was going to break some shit."

"Please stop apologizing, it's okay, Sarah. I came over that morning to apologize to him in the first place. We'd gotten into a huge fight the night before and that was my fault." At Sarah's questioning look, Rachel gave her an abridged version of their "relationship" up to this point.

You could have knocked Sarah Puckerman over with a feather. She sat, mouth agape, staring at Rachel.

"What?" Rachel asked cautiously.

"I—just—I never thought I'd see the day. Puck's never had a girl around longer than two weeks before. I joked that he had grown up and gotten himself a girlfriend, but he, like, actually _did_. There'll be peace in the Middle East next week."

Rachel's lips quirked into a crooked grin. "We haven't redefined our relationship yet."

"Girl, you should. I like you and I will kick Puck's ass if he screws this up. So will Rose. You've been a popular topic of conversation ever since she met you," Sarah teased.

Warmth flooded her cheeks and she looked down interestedly at the table. "I do want to talk to him about it, but I'm scared." She rubbed the back of her neck to soothe out the tension. "God, he's supposed to be the emotionally stunted one, not me," she chuckled.

Sarah threw her head back and laughed heartily. "Emotionally stunted! I fucking love it. Yes, he is that."

"There you two are," Rose Puckerman interrupted, taking one of the two empty chairs at their little table.

"Mama, guess what?" Sarah asked, her laughter subsiding.

"What, honey?"

"Rachel and Noah have been together for almost two whole months. _Noah_. Un-freaking-real."

Rose smiled broadly. "I know. I just finished talking to him."

Rachel's head snapped up and met his mother's pointed gaze. He'd talked to his mother about her. (Well, she probably grilled him for answers, but still…he _gave_ them.) "I'm going to go back up and talk to him. We're overdue for a conversation."

"I think that's a great idea," Rose chuckled.

Even as the nerves piled up, a smile broke out over her face. "I'll see you two later," she said with a wave. As she walked away, she heard Rose starting in on her daughter. ("Sarah, what in God's name were you thinking coming out here without telling anyone? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?") Giggling, she rounded the corner and headed for the elevators.

* * *

Knocking softly on the door, Rachel entered Puck's room and found him laying back with his eyes closed listening to his iPod. Not wanting to disturb him in case he was sleeping, she moved quietly through the room and occupied the uncomfortable chair by his bed. She tried to find a position that was semi-comfortable, but she was too nervous to sit still. This moment, whatever it was, felt big and important, and her mind was going crazy bouncing around the possibilities and everything that had happened in the last few days.

She'd come so close to losing him, first with the fight over a misunderstanding and then because of the accident. Her throat grew tight, but she shook those feelings away. _He was fine_. Well, he _would_ _be_ fine after he healed. Sighing, she hugged her knees to her chest and just watched him. Even with all of the cuts and bruises marking his face, he was still so good looking that it made her heart turn over in her chest.

But it wasn't just his good looks that gave her butterflies. Over these last couple of months (three, if you count before they started sleeping together), he'd just become this incredibly important person in her life. (And was quickly rising in the ranks) Hindsight was truly 20/20, because how she ever thought that they could just be about sex and not have feelings get involved was beyond her.

She just…_liked _him. So much.

Sure, he was crass, and rude, and foul-mouthed and said inappropriate things about 87% of the time, but when no one else was looking, he had the ability to be sweet (he'd hate her for even_ thinking _that, she was absolutely certain). He was stubborn and argumentative (so was she), but he could make her laugh until tears streamed down her face and no more sound came from her mouth. He possessed the ability to make her flush from head to toe with a single arch of his eyebrow or a smirk on his incredible lips. And one kiss or touch from him made her forget that anything but him even existed in the universe.

"I know I'm sexy, but it's rude to stare, ya know," he said impishly, snapping her out of her thoughts.

Puck opened his eyes and shot a wicked grin at her before pulling out his ear buds. She looked fucking adorable with her chin resting on her knees like that.

Rachel felt the color rush to her cheeks, but she managed a little laugh. "I thought you were sleeping and I didn't want to disturb you."

"Uh huh, sure. It's okay to admit it, Smalls. I won't judge."

She rolled her eyes and "I'd ask you how you're feeling, but clearly you're feeling better. How doped up are you?"

Puck smirked. "Not much at all anymore. Those bastards took away my happy button."

"Aw, poor baby," she teased, stretching out her legs. "How was your visit with your mother?"

"Jesus Christ," he rolled his eyes. "Typical. But fine I s'pose. You were gone a while."

"I was in the cafeteria with Sarah," she smiled. "And then your mother joined us."

"I'm sorry," he grumbled.

Rachel laughed then, "Don't be. They made me realize something."

He was sure he wasn't going to like whatever _that_ was. "Fuck, what?" he asked gruffly.

She stood up from the chair and sat down beside him on the bed. "That it's time we talked about—_things_."

It wasn't that he disagreed (he _didn't_), but now that they were finally _here_, he found the idea of talking (especially about fucking feelings) a little scary and not a lot badass. But the way her big brown eyes sparkled and warmed as she smiled down at him made his fears shut the fuck up. "Yeah," he nodded, resting his hand on her thigh. "I agree."

Rachel placed her hand on top of his and toyed with his fingers as she struggled to find the right words. This usually wasn't a problem for her (had never _been_ a problem for her), but now, knowing that they were about to have a very important conversation, she felt like a mute. Puck's lips curved into a lazy smile when she cleared her throat and smoothed her free hand over her ponytail. "I don't know what's wrong with me," she laughed nervously. "I normally don't have issues talking."

"Believe me, I know," he teased dryly, making the corners of her lips turn down slightly. "I'm sorry," Puck said sincerely.

"For that? Don't be silly. I _do_ talk a lot, Noah—"

"No," he cut her off. "I'm sorry…for being such a prick to you the other night."

Her shoulders slumped a little and she cast her eyes down at the worn blanket on the bed. "It's okay," she whispered. "I deserved it."

His jaw clenched and his brows drew close together. "No you fucking didn't, Rach. Don't say that. I'm not sorry for feeling the way I did, but I should've just, you know, talked to you about it instead of getting drunk and being such an asshole. But, yeah, talking about shit instead of reacting is kinda new to me."

Rachel lifted her eyes to meet his and smiled softly, gripping his hand just a little tighter and brushing her thumb over his knuckles. "I'm so sorry you overheard that conversation with Kurt. I didn't mean any of it. In fact, I'd planned on talking to you about our—relationship after the party was over."

Puck quirked a brow, a slight smile on his lips. "Yeah?" When she nodded her response, he grinned. "Me, too."

"Well, we're quite the pair, aren't we?" she smirked.

"Hell yeah we are," he winked.

Rachel snorted out a laugh. "I'm not sure that was meant to be complimentary to either of us given that I've got emotional baggage and you're…" she trailed off, silently scolding herself. Insulting him was _so_ not the tactic she'd wished to employ. _God!_

Biting back a smile, he prodded, "I'm what, Rach?"

She buried her face in her hands and groaned. She was such an idiot sometimes. "Nothing, forget it."

"Babe, I know I'm new to this, but aren't we supposed to be honest with each other?"

"You're emotionally—"

"Retarded," he finished with a grin. He wasn't offended.

"Inexperienced," she corrected.

He shrugged the shoulder on his good side and chuckled. "Whatever, I like mine better." He just looked at her for a minute, looking for the right thing to say and thinking how this wasn't so scary after all. "So, you and me—not just about sex anymore." It wasn't a question.

Warmth rushed to her cheeks and smiled softly as she shook her head. "Not anymore," she agreed.

Sure, he'd read the text message (several times—shut the fuck up) but hearing her say it out loud made it real. "When did things change? For you?"

Rachel caught her bottom lip between her teeth and thought about it. "To be honest, I don't know if there was one specific moment that made me realize. I think I saw signs here and there along the way, but I was so determined to keep feelings out of it; so I ignored them until I just couldn't anymore. Though if I _had _to pick I'd say the night of the Colts game really confirmed it for me." She expelled a relieved breath and felt that annoying monkey vacate its residence from her back. "What about you?"

"Colts game. Hit me like a fucking semi. Pretty sure I even quoted _Bad Boys II_ in there somewhere." As confusion danced across her face he squeezed her thigh and grinned. "Shit just got real."

Her head drooped and her shoulders shook as laughter consumed her. "I have so much fun with you, Noah." His answer was his signature smirk and it made her heart skip. "And I'm so _in like_ with you it's just… _ridiculous_."

Puck tried to fight the enormous grin on his face, but it was pointless. Hearing her say that was pretty much the best thing ever (well, you know, besides being naked with her—_nothing_ topped that, and fuck you for suggesting otherwise). "Well, that's good, Smalls, because I _like you like you_."

She laughed again. "Well, we've officially gone into grade school territory with this conversation."

"Who cares?" he chuckled. "So?"

"So?" Rachel repeated softly, a playful gleam in her eyes.

He cocked his head to the side, regarded her. "What happens now, Rachel?" he asked, squeezing the spot on her thigh that always made her squeal. "You wanna, like, be my lady friend or what?"

"Your _lady friend_?" Rachel asked with a snort. "And you'll be my gentleman caller? I'm not a hooker, Noah," she laughed.

"Fuck, Rach, cut me some slack here. _Goddamn!_"

He was practically pouting and it was beyond adorable; so much so that she could hardly stand it. "Aw, I'm sorry," she told him, carefully running her hand over the scruff on his jaw before leaning down to whisper in his ear. "I'll let you in on a little secret though…you're on the right track."

Puck folded his arms around her body and held her as tightly as his injuries would allow. "Rachel," he murmured into her ear, grinning when he felt her shiver. He kissed a trail up her jaw until he settled on her mouth. "I want you to be my girl," he said softly against her lips.

Rachel pulled back with a brilliant smile on her face. "I already am."

The door opened and Finn lumbered into the room closely followed by Quinn, Rose and Sarah. Puck peered around Rachel to the intruders. "Thanks for stopping by, but would you all mind kindly fucking off for a while so I can kiss my girlfriend?"

There was a brief round of applause from the collective and Rachel giggled before turning to smile at her best friend. Quinn's face cracked into a smile and she made a 'call me' gesture before tugging Finn towards the door.

Rose was about to launch into a hearty congratulations, but Sarah stopped her. "C'mon, Mama. Let's leave them alone."

"But, I just want to—"

"I like Sarah's idea, Ma," Puck grumbled. "I love you, but seriously, get the fuck out."

Sarah laughed and pulled their pouting mother from the room.

"Where were we?" he asked with a crooked grin.

"I was about to kiss my boyfriend," she offered coyly.

"Fuckin' right you were," he grinned, liking the way that word sounded coming out of her lips. (Shut up) Cupping her face gently, he pulled her mouth down to his and kissed his girl thoroughly.

* * *

For those wondering, this story still has some legs. I think we're all curious to see how Puck acts as a boyfriend, yes? Stay tuned.


	21. Home Sweet Home

**A/N:** Thanks so much for the reviews and alerts and favorites. I appreciate it more than you know. This chapter is a little shorter, but it was a good stopping point. This story _is _winding down, but it's still got several chapters left.

Thanks to Mandy for all of her help and to Becca for the beta and everyone else that read along the way. You're awesome, all of you. :)

Would like to point out that I do not own Glee, sadly, and I'm also not a medical professional, so any restrictions that Noah has might not be spot on. Kthanks.

* * *

After five days of being in the hospital, Puck was fucking _over it _already. He slept for shit because the damn adjustable bed was uncomfortable as all hell and he never got more than a couple hours at a time with the nurses walking in and waking him the fuck up to check his vitals. The food was disgusting; the only decent meal he'd had in the last five days was the burger and fries he'd threatened out of Chang's hands when that asshole came to visit.

In short, he was pissed off and ready to go the fuck home.

As he scowled at the gruel they tried to call breakfast on his tray, the door to his room opened and his mood improved instantly when Rachel walked in with a smile on her face and a paper bag in her hand. Yeah, his girl was fucking awesome like that. He dropped his fork and unceremoniously pushed the tray away before grinning at her. "Hey."

"Hey yourself," Rachel said, her smile widening as she reached his bed. "I brought you some breakfast."

"Thank God," he groaned, snatching the bag from her hands like a greedy child before pulling her down for a kiss. "I'm so fucking hungry I feel like I've been in a concentration camp for weeks. Ooh, breakfast burrito. Score!"

"Noah!" Rachel admonished, her hands snapping to her hips, eyes narrowing.

"What?" he asked with his mouth full.

"How can you make such a horrible and insensitive joke about the atrocities committed against our people?"

Puck's forehead scrunched in concentration as he tried to remember what in the holy hell he'd just said. (Another thing he can thank the hospital for. Brain drain.) _Oh. Oops. _"Fuck's sake, babe, I was _joking_. Obviously I'm not down with Nazis. But look at that disgusting shit on my tray," he said, motioning to it and taking another enormous bite of the (delicious!) burrito she'd brought for him. "However this? S'really good," he mumbled. He swallowed and smiled up at her, watching the annoyance on her face fade away. "Thanks, babe."

Rachel lowered her hands and shook her head. It was hard to remain annoyed when he looked like he looked and said _babe_ the way he did. She decided that was probably both a good and bad thing for their relationship. (_Relationship_. She was still getting used to that.) "You're welcome. Do you know if you're being released today?"

Inhaling the last of his burrito, he grunted, shrugged his shoulders. "If I don't I've already got my escape route planned. Your assistance will be required." He wadded up the wrapper and tossed it on the tray. "Seriously—I can't fucking handle one more night in this joint."

She perched on the edge of the bed and smoothed a hand over the thick stubble on his cheek. (She hadn't told him, but that intensely scruffy look on him was _insanely _hot.) His bruises had faded from black to yellow and the bandage above his eyebrow was gone, the gash there scabbed over. Overall, he looked a thousand times better than he had the day of his accident. "What's my part of your plan? Donning some scrubs and wheeling you out on a gurney?" she asked with a playful lilt to her voice.

Puck smirked and palmed her denim clad hip. "I was thinking more along the lines of a tight, black cat suit," he replied thickly.

Rachel laughed. "How would a cat suit be inconspicuous in sneaking you out of the hospital?"

"Dunno," he shrugged, a grin forming on his lips. "Was thinking you'd just look fucking hot in it and then I didn't get any further." She shook her head at him but giggled and pressed her lips warmly against his. "I can't wait to get out of here so I can have sex with my lady friend," he said lowly against her mouth. He chuckled when she pulled away and scowled at him.

"I don't care how many times you try and use that term to desensitize me to it, Noah, it's not funny."

"It's hilarious, Smalls." He poked at her face until she smiled. "But seriously, once I'm outta here, I'm taking you on a date and then we're gonna have sex and make this relationship all official like."

Rachel sighed and pressed her lips together to keep the smile from forming. "I was unaware that we weren't official until we had _the sex_," she said, amused.

"And a date," he reminded her. "'Cause I'm classy like that."

"Yes, if you look up _class _in the dictionary your picture is listed under the definition," she said dryly.

"Right?"

She rolled her eyes. "I was being facetious."

"Fa-what?" Rachel pushed to her feet and he grabbed her wrist, and chuckling, pulled her back down on the bed. "Relax, babe. I know what facetious means." (Honest, he did.)

The door to his room opened again and a middle aged nurse walked in.

"Yo, Betty," he greeted. "Am I getting' outta here today or what?" he asked, his hand resting comfortably high on Rachel's thigh.

"Yes, Mr. Puckerman you are," Betty replied, flashing them both a warm smile.

Rachel turned and smiled brightly at Noah. He smirked and squeezed her leg.

"I've got your discharge paperwork here and your prescriptions. I just spoke with the doctor and he gave me your discharge instructions. He wants to see you in a week to check your progress. I've included his office number, so call and set up an appointment. You're not to lift anything heavier than 40 pounds until the doc gives you the okay. And," she said, pausing to look up briefly at the patient and his girlfriend, "you are to refrain from sexual intercourse for the next four to six weeks."

Rachel's eyes went wide but she said nothing. She wanted to look at Noah's face, but she was afraid he'd kick her out of the room because she was sure she'd laugh.

Puck's face fell and any elation he felt previously over getting out of the damn hospital had been murdered. "Betty, you're not funny."

"I'm not joking. You sustained very serious injuries and you're recovering from surgery," she informed him matter-of-factly.

"So I can't have sex?" he asked, baffled.

"For four to six weeks, that is correct."

_Four to six weeks? Un-fucking-acceptable_. "Jerking off is still cool though, right? 'Cause four to six weeks without that—not happenin'."

Rachel closed her eyes and felt her cheeks grow warm with embarrassment.

The nurse barked out a quick laugh and tried to mask it with a cough. "Masturbation is acceptable."

"Sweet," Puck said, nudging Rachel. "Means your mouth and hands are good, too," he told her, wagging his brows.

She gasped and felt her face flame and her temper flare. She wanted the earth to open up and swallow her whole for embarrassing her so spectacularly.

"Mr. Puckerman, I suggest if you ever hope to have any part of your girlfriend's person touch you again that you shut your mouth and shut it now."

Puck's mouth snapped shut and he sat silently just blinking owlishly at the nurse. He could feel Rachel's body vibrating with laughter after the nurse 'put him in his place.' He didn't think it was very fucking funny _at all_ and he suspected she wouldn't either once she was forced to endure a four-to-six-week drought of Puckzilla-style lovin'. _Motherfucker_.

"Smart boy," Betty laughed. "Just need you to sign these forms and you'll be free to leave."

He hastily scribbled his signature on all of the necessary forms and handed them back.

"Press the call button when you're ready and we'll bring a wheelchair down for you." With that, she turned on her crepe soled shoes and breezed out the door.

"No fucking for four to six weeks? Are they _kidding_ me with this?" he groused, pushing his body up higher in the bed.

"Noah," she sighed, "you're recovering. It'll be fine." Though she wasn't _entirely sure_ that she could last that long without him either.

Puck scoffed and rolled his eyes before wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her towards him. "It's unfair, Rach. We just got shit figured out and now I can't have sex with my hot la—girlfriend. Could this day seriously get any worse?"

When the door opened at that exact moment and his mother and sister walked in arguing about ice cream flavors (no fucking lie) he wished he'd learn to keep his damn mouth shut once in a while.

"Rach, baby," he grumbled, pulling a pillow from behind his head and handing it to her, "just smother me now and put me out of my misery."

* * *

By the time he walked through the front door of his apartment, he wanted to take an ice pick, or a screwdriver, or any other pointy object and drive it through his temple. Rachel had called a cab and had it waiting downstairs for them at the hospital and because his mother was fucking cheap and Rachel was too nice to say no, the four of them had shared the cab from Lenox Hill to his apartment while his mother blathered on and on about stupid shit that absolutely no one, least of all Ranjit the cabbie, cared about.

He wanted his bed. He wanted sleep. And he wanted both _now_. (He also wanted quiet, but with Rose and Sarah all up in his apartment, he fucking knew better.)

Rachel's hand came to the small of his back and gently nudged him towards his bedroom. She shut the door behind them, drowning out the chatter in the living room. She leaned against the door and huffed out a long, exasperated breath before lifting her eyes to his, which were decidedly amused.

"Intense, right?" he asked knowingly, toeing off his shoes.

That was definitely one word to describe them, she thought. And as nice as she found his mother and sister, the last few days with them had been a little…_overwhelming_. Still, her relationship with Noah was too new and she couldn't very well insult his family to his face. (There were lines you just _didn't_ cross.) "I just need a minute," she told him honestly.

"They're batshit crazy, babe, I know. You can say it." He sat down on the bed and ran his hand over his jaw. He needed to shave, but he'd also noticed the hot way Rachel'd been eyeing it and how she'd run her hand over his face a little more often than she normally would. Maybe he'd just keep it for a while.

"I do not think that," Rachel insisted, pushing her body away from the door and running her fingers through her hair. She walked over and stood between his legs, brushing her thumbs over the sides of his face.

(Oh yeah, definitely keeping the scruff for a while.) "Wanna take a nap with me?" he asked, yawning hugely.

She really did. More than anything. But his mother and sister (mostly his mother) were in the living room. "No," she shook her head and his face soured. "You know that I do, but your family's in the living room," she told him quietly, resting her hands on his shoulders, smiling when his hands smoothed up the backs of her thighs to rest on her backside. "And you need to rest," she added when he opened his mouth to protest. "I'll be here when you wake up. Okay?"

Puck nodded, too tired to argue, and tugged on her sweater until she lowered her mouth to his. He caught her bottom lip between his and kissed her slowly. "You better be," he told her.

* * *

It was dark and quiet when he woke up from his nap. Rolling over, he glanced at the clock, realizing that he'd been asleep for close to five hours. Hell, that wasn't a nap, it was a mini-coma. He listened closely, expecting to hear his mother's voice reverberating throughout the apartment or his sister bitching about something. But the only thing he heard was some music playing softly in the living room. He half wondered if his mom and sister had driven Rachel so completely crazy that she'd ended up silencing them for good. Pushing to his feet he carefully stretched his arms overhead, wincing when his left side burned. He needed a shower and some pain medicine. His stomach growled and he added food to that short list.

Opening his bedroom door, his mouth watered from the delicious smells wafting from his kitchen. He saw Rachel standing at the counter putting a salad together and singing along quietly to the old country song playing on the stereo. She looked up from the kitchen and paused, smiling warmly at him. He felt a crooked grin tug at the corner of his mouth and he walked closer to her.

"How was your nap?" she asked as she resumed dicing up a tomato.

"Good." He glanced around the apartment and noticed that it was now spotless. He remembered it looking like a hovel when he walked in earlier (thanks to his freeloading sister, no doubt). "Did you off Ma and Sarah? S'quiet in here. And really clean."

Rachel put down her knife and looked up at him, noting that he looked a lot more refreshed after his nap. "I spent the afternoon grocery shopping and making some meals for you with your mother while Sarah painted her nails and filled me in on the reason she fled the great state of Ohio—he sounds like a piece of garbage, if you ask me—and then your mother started ranting at her in Yiddish about her dating a _goy_ in the first place and then being so lazy—something about how did she ever expect to become a good Jewish wife if she didn't even know how to run a household. Sarah said "God Rose, don't plotz," and then your mother got very quiet and had this really intense look on her face, which, if I'm being completely honest with you, is a bit terrifying. Your sister flew off the couch and started cleaning, which was amusing, but really rather pointless as your mother went right along behind her and redid everything anyway." She sighed and resumed chopping vegetables. Then she smirked and looked up at him through her eyelashes. "After all that _mishegas_ I got them tickets to see _Wicked_ and sent them to dinner at Lattanzi. They left about an hour ago."

"Christ, you're good. Thanks for not running away screaming," he said, only half teasing. He walked into the kitchen, wrapped his arms around her shoulders and dropped a kiss to the top of her head. "What smells so damn good in here?"

"Manicotti and garlic knots," she answered sweetly. "And I made a cheesecake for dessert. Oh, and if you need more pain pills, I got your prescription filled while I was out shopping." She gestured to the bottle of pills on the counter and felt him smile against her hair.

"I hit the fucking jackpot in the girlfriend lottery," he mused, pressing a noisy kiss to her cheek and making her chuckle softly. He lowered his hands to her waist and snuck his fingers under the hem of her sweater to brush against the soft skin of her stomach. "I'm gonna grab a quick shower and wash this hospital funk off."

Rachel tipped her head back and kissed the underside of his jaw. "Okay. Dinner should be ready in about twenty minutes."

He popped a pain pill as he left the kitchen and winked roguishly at her on his way to the shower. Her answering smile was coy and he would swear a little naughty. He shook his head and cursed the doctor's _four-to-six-week-sex-ban_. Asshole.

* * *

Showers at the hospital had been a fucking joke, so the strong, hot spray from the shower in his apartment felt like heaven as it rained down over his body. Steam billowed around him, fogging up the glass door, and his thoughts turned to his sexy girlfriend (he was still getting used to that term, but he liked it) in the kitchen making dinner. Puck once again cursed his injuries, because he'd much rather have her naked in here with him. He knew from experience just how fun showers with Rachel were.

His left side throbbed when he twisted to grab the bar of soap and as much as he hated the doctor's orders, he knew there really was no way he could have sex right now. Even though his brain may have understood that, his body had other ideas and betrayed him by making his dick hard. He hadn't gotten off in…way too many days. Grumbling, again, about just how long four-to-six weeks was, he closed his eyes and conjured up images of wet and naked Rachel, pretending it was her hand that was stroking him off. (Again, he knew from experience just how good she was with her hands…and her mouth and…)

Once he'd found release, he switched the water to icy fucking cold.

No sex with his _girlfriend_ for four-to-six weeks.

Fuck his life.

* * *

Rachel had just finished setting the table and pouring a glass of wine for herself (she thought it well-deserved after the day with Rose and Sarah) when the bathroom door opened and she heard Noah asking for her. She sipped her wine and padded through the apartment, sure that he was about to flirt and make suggestive comments. (She didn't mind.) She also didn't mind the sight of his naked back that was still damp from his shower and the white towel slung low around his hips. (Her boyfriend was gorgeous.)

What she did mind, and didn't expect, were the bruises she saw along his ribs and the pink incision from his surgery when he turned around to face her. It made her throat clench and dry up. She hadn't seen him without his shirt since the accident and she felt a little foolish for thinking that he wouldn't have marks on his body considering the ones that were still on his face.

Puck held up an ace bandage. "Can you…?" he asked quietly. "I can't get it wrapped tight enough on my own." He'd tried, but doing it on his own required too much twisting and that hurt too damn much. He didn't want to be a pussy and ask, but he knew by now that she wouldn't find him weak in doing so.

Rachel nodded silently and set her wineglass on the sink. Taking the bandage from his hand, she raised her eyes to his. "Lift up your arms," she murmured.

He did as she instructed, resting them on her shoulders and letting his fingers comb through her hair. Her hands were soft and warm on his skin as she wrapped the bandage around his ribcage. She had a determined look on her face while she worked; her jaw was tensed and her brows pinched together. It shouldn't have been adorable, but it was on her. "Pull it a little tighter," he instructed. Her expression softened and she turned her big, gorgeous eyes on him, nodding wordlessly again before focusing on the task at hand.

When she finished securing the bandage, she patted her palms gently against his chest. "Okay."

Puck rested his hands on top of hers. "Thanks," he smiled down at her, reaching out to smooth the hair back away from her face. She smelled like apples today and she just looked so pretty, standing in her jeans and sweater and bare feet in his bathroom, her brown eyes blinking up at him. "You're good at this," he rasped quietly. Her left eyebrow arched in question. "At being my girl."

Rachel's pulse raced from his words and her lips curved slowly into a warm smile. She liked these rare, quiet moments with him when he was being utterly sweet. She rose onto her toes and laid her lips over his, just to let him know.

"Soon as I'm feeling better, babe, I'm gonna kick ass and take names at this boyfriend _bidness_."

And just like that, the quiet moment was over. But, as the dry laugh escaped her lips, she decided she liked _these_ moments with him just as much. (Maybe slightly more.) "Oh, you're already better than you think, Noah," she told him, tilting her head and smiling coyly up at him through her lashes. He smirked proudly at that. She grabbed her wineglass and patted his chest again. "Dinner's ready."

"K, babe. Jus' gotta put some clothes on." He watched her reflection in the mirror and she was, without a doubt, _totally checking him out_. Her eyes eventually traveled their way north and he smirked knowingly when their eyes met, grinned when her cheeks turned pink. She turned and headed for the kitchen. Puck stepped out of the bathroom, his fingers hooked into the towel at his waist. "Hey, Rachel?" he asked impishly.

Rachel wheeled around and the towel he'd been wearing hit her in the face.

"Mind hanging that up for me?" He smirked again and turned to walk into his room. Glancing over his shoulder he saw her staring wide-eyed and mouth agape. He grinned and strutted into his bedroom. It was nice to know he wasn't going to be the only one having a hard time during their sex-free period.

* * *

**A/N 2: **I promise Finn and Quinn will return in the next chapter. Thanks for being patient.


	22. Changes

**A/N:** Long time no post. Sorry about that. Real life is real life, guys. I have a full time job, a husband and a one year old...I'm busy. Thanks to all who reviewed the story recently and with the last chapter. I'm sorry I didn't get around to responding to you. :(

A special thanks to my girlies who helped me out with this chapter. You know who you are, bbs.

I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's a long one. Please let me know what you think. Good, bad, indifferent. I love constructive feedback.

* * *

Spooning is for pussies.

(At least he used to think so.)

But now that he was on day 15 without sex, he'd take whatever he could get. And that was currently his girlfriend's pert little ass pressed back against him while she slept soundly, wearing only his t-shirt and a pair of panties with _Tuesday_ printed on the front. (Don't think he didn't try and talk her out of those last night either…they are way hotter than they sound, ok?) If it weren't for his stupid doctor issuing that bullshit 'no sex' edict, he'd have been _all up in _his girlfriend. Unfortunately for him, Rachel was all about following rules and doctor's orders and ensuring his recovery and shit.

Which, fine, that was actually really awesome of her; but fuck, man. He was horny and his girlfriend (who he'd yet to fuck since the label was placed on their relationship) was smokin'. And he hadn't felt all that great up until the last few days, so in all honestly he hadn't been up for engaging in anything other than kissing (see how you feel after a ceiling collapsed on your damn chest, thanks). But a corner had been turned in his recovery, and around that corner? An insane need for all things sex. There were, according to Berry (and the doctor), 14 to 30 celibate days left.

Fuck that noise.

It was as though she was picking up on his brainwaves or something while she slept (and in her sleep decided to be completely evil) because she chose that exact moment to murmur his name in this sexy as hell little voice and shift even closer, her ass rubbing firmly against him before finally snuggling her face further into the pillow. What a jerk.

His name on her lips while she was sound asleep was pretty damn sweet though. Granted, it did nothing but make his morning wood grow even harder, so, you know, that kinda sucked. But, as he put his hand beneath the blanket and trailed it up her bare thigh to rest on her hip, his fingers toying with the edge of her panties, he thought he might be able to work this to his advantage and get something started that she wouldn't be able to say no to. (He didn't care what she said; this no sex shit was just as hard on her as it was on him – no pun intended.)

Puck let his hand drift up a little higher; inching under the fabric of the t-shirt she was wearing, he pressed his palm flat against her stomach and pulled her completely flush against him. Dropping kisses over her shoulder, he trailed a line slowly up her neck, making her moan softly. He smirked against her skin, his tongue darting out of his mouth to swirl around her earlobe before catching it between his teeth and tugging gently. Rachel began to stir and arched her back, making her rub just the way he wanted against his arousal. After such a long absence, this already felt like fucking heaven. "Baby," he whispered, sliding his hand up her body to roll an already puckered nipple between his fingers.

This was the best kind of dream, Rachel thought, feeling his warm breath whispering against her skin. (It seemed so real.) She knew it had to be a dream, because she and Noah (sadly) weren't allowed to do _this_ right now. _Just enjoy it_, she thought, tightly squeezing her eyes closed and pressing her breast into the palm of his hand. She moaned when he squeezed her gently and plucked at her nipple. He said something (maybe her name) gruffly and she could feel his length poking against her back. He was always so ready for her and that lit a fire low in her belly. "Noah," she purred softly.

Puck smoothed his hand away from her tits, expelling a ragged breath when she whimpered from the loss of contact. His lips found her neck again, nipping up to her jaw as his fingers traveled south and dipped into the waistband of her panties. _Fuck_. She was soaking wet. "Dammit, baby," he bit out. He slipped a finger along her slit and spread the moisture over her clit, circling expertly and making her gasp.

Rachel's eyes flew open and she could still feel him. She figured out pretty darn quickly it hadn't been a dream at all. "Noah!" she exclaimed.

Puck grinned proudly and pressed two fingers just to the right of her clit. She practically keened his name. "Mornin'."

This wasn't supposed to be happening. But God, it felt _amazing_. And it had been _too long_. "What are you doing?" she asked weakly, knowing she should put a stop to this. She felt the rumble of his laughter against her back before she heard it.

"My hand's in your panties, Rach—the fuck do you think I'm doing?" She scoffed and tried to pull away. He slid two thick fingers inside her heat and made her cry out. "Good?" he asked smugly.

"God," she breathed, her cheeks flooding with color. "Noah, stop, we shouldn't—no, we can't." Her brain was ceasing to function properly.

He knew she'd probably make him stop and leave him legit blue balled, but he wasn't through trying just yet. "Baby," he said lowly against her ear, fighting the grin when she shivered against him. "Don't you miss this?"

His fingers curled deep inside her and her eyes rolled back into her head. "Fuck," she breathed out sharply, her stomach beginning to tighten. "Yes! You know I—_Jesus, Noah_."

Making her stammer over her words was one of his favorite things to do and he smirked proudly over the profanities, too. He knew it wouldn't take much more to get her to lose her shit. "Kiss me," he said gruffly, suddenly needing to feel those plump lips of hers against his.

Rachel shifted away from him slightly and rolled onto her back. His fingers plunged deeper in her heat and found her g-spot, and she bucked hard against his hand. "God, I'm close," she cried, looking up at him through hooded eyes. Raw lust flashed in his eyes as he looked back at her with an arrogant smirk on his lips. The heat low in her belly coiled tightly as a result and she arched into his fingers again, chasing after her release. He stilled his hand, pulling halfway out of her and her brows pinched together in frustration. "Noah," she whined.

Puck fought back the shit-eating grin that threatened to split his face in two. This whole thing was _so_ going to work in his fucking favor as soon as he got her off and made her see stars. (Which he was masterful at, thanks.) "Where's my kiss?" he asked with one brow arched sky high.

She reared up and grabbed the back of his head, pulling his mouth down to hers. Her tongue teased across the seam of his lips until he opened his mouth. When he did, she slipped inside and stroked her tongue wildly against his. His fingers slid deeply into her once more and twisted. _God_. If he kept doing that she'd be falling apart in mere seconds.

He knew she was _right there_ and without preamble he pulled his hand away and pinched her clit hard between his fingers. Rachel went rigid and tore her lips from his, yelling out his name as her orgasm ripped through her. She dug her fingers into shoulders and breathed out his name again. Her heart was thundering in her ears and her chest was heaving when he brushed his thumb over her again, drawing out the release. She shook violently as heat spread through every inch of her body. Her arms fell limply away from his shoulders and she flopped back fully against the mattress. "Sweet Moses," she managed, swallowing thickly and taking big, greedy breaths.

Puck kissed her cheek and smoothed his hand over her hip. "Dammit, babe, that was hot," he rasped in her ear.

Rachel's eyes fluttered open when she felt him twitch against her thigh and saw a cocky smirk on his face. She pushed up on her elbows and kissed him. "It was," she murmured against his mouth. He rolled onto his back and kicked off the covers; her eyes were instantly drawn to his impressive erection.

"Saddle up, baby. 'S your turn," he told her, wagging his brows. If he didn't get his dick wet soon he was going to die.

"Noah," she sighed, sitting up and pushing to her knees to face him.

"Panties, baby…lose 'em," he told her seriously.

She really wanted nothing more than to fuck them both into unconsciousness, but he was still under doctor's orders to _not_ do that. "We're not having sex, Noah," she said, though it pained her to do so. "You're only halfway through your recovery." He scoffed.

"Fuck, then ride me half as hard as you normally do, Berry. But seriously, if I don't have sex soon I'm going to _die_."

Her lips twitched into a crooked grin. "I thought I was the dramatic one in this relationship? I don't think anyone's ever died from not having sex, Noah," she offered dryly.

"You want me to be the first?" he asked, his voice dangerously close to whining. He sat up and grabbed the hem of her (his) t-shirt. "I want my shirt back," he said impishly, pulling it effortlessly off her body. He grunted when he got an eyeful of her amazing tits.

"Do you think pouting and behaving like a child is going to help your cause?"

He groaned and rolled his eyes. "Babe, there's _nothing_ childish about this," he told her, sweeping his hand dramatically over his body. "'specially this." He grabbed his cock and stroked gently. His other hand slid along her arm, gently grazing the curve of her breast with his knuckles. Her body was in-fucking-sane. He _loved_ it.

Something that was half laugh and half moan bubbled past her lips. It was impossible to not want him, especially when he was lying there aroused and fully naked. "I'm not having sex with you," she repeated quietly, biting her lip when his eyes narrowed and the corners of his mouth turned down.

"You're not being a very good Jew," he grumbled.

Rachel arched a perfectly sculpted brow and laughed in his face. "You're ridiculous! What does Judaism have to do with this?"

"Dunno—but I'm sure I could think of something," he bit out grumpily. "Smalls—please?" There was no mistaking the whine that time.

Her lips curved into a wily grin. "As I was saying, I'm not having sex with you—"

"C'mon! Just the tip? See how it feels?" He wasn't above trotting out movie quotes in times of need.

"Noah! Do you want me to get you off or not?" Rachel huffed, fisting her hands on her hips.

His eyes were glued to the way her tits jiggled when she did that. And—wait. Did she just ask…? "Fuck _yes_. Baby, yes I do. You gonna blow me?" he asked hopefully. The naughty smile on her lips gave him the only answer he needed. "Good. You give amazing head, Rach."

She grinned from the compliment and pushed gently on his shoulders to nudge him down on the bed. "I'm glad you think so."

"You're a good Jew," he grinned wickedly.

Rachel shook her head and settled herself between his legs. "I like how whether or not I'm a good Jew hinges on whether or not I put out for you."

Puck shrugged and winked at her, stroking the pad of his thumb across her cheek. "Less talking, more blowing. There might even be a gift in it for you," he said mischievously, slipping a hand into her hair. She lifted a questioning brow and gripped the base of his cock with her hand. He groaned appreciatively when she licked a slow stripe up the underside of his shaft and swirled her tongue around the head. "How 'bout a pearl necklace?" he asked with a wicked grin.

* * *

Puck set all of the necessary ingredients on the counter as he started on the breakfast he'd promised her while they were tangled in his sheets. He could still hear the shower running and smiled winningly at the thought of her washing away the "present" he'd given her earlier. Opening one of the lower cabinets, he pulled out his waffle maker and plugged it in. He knew when she asked for breakfast that she'd been expecting him to pour her a bowl of cereal and he was looking forward to surprising her with homemade waffles and bacon. It was the first time he'd cooked for a woman he wasn't related to and he kinda liked that the first was the gorgeous brunette currently in his shower.

He was mixing up the waffle batter when the bathroom door opened and Rachel walked out with a towel wrapped around her tiny frame, hair wet and skin dewy. "You're cooking?" she asked, in this surprised voice and with an utterly adorable look on her face.

"Yup," he answered, smirking at her across the apartment. "Makin' you some waffles." Her answering smile as she walked backwards into his room made him feel pretty damn good.

After she was dressed, Rachel walked into the kitchen and her mouth watered and her stomach growled from all of the wonderful scents filling the space. "Bacon, too," she commented, curling her fingers into the soft fabric of his worn Zeppelin t-shirt and slipping between his body and the counter. He nodded and she rose on her toes to lay her lips over his. "You've been holding out on me, Puckerman," she teased, smiling up at him, resting her hand over his bicep. "You can cook."

"S'right. I'm good, too," he told her, sliding a hand down into the back pocket of her jeans. "Had to be sure you could handle Puckzilla's waffles before I made them."

She let out a breathy laugh and pressed a noisy kiss on his cheek before dropping down on flat feet. "Your nicknames are ridiculous."

"Whatever," he scoffed. "They're awesome. Just like this breakfast is gonna be." He pulled his hand out of her pocket and smacked her playfully on the ass. "Go sit. This'll be ready soon."

Rachel smiled brightly and ducked under his arm, scooting past him to take a seat at the table. Folding her legs underneath herself, she watched him move easily about the kitchen as he finished their breakfast. "Where did you learn how to cook?" she asked him casually, sipping her orange juice.

He glanced over his shoulder and grinned. "Rose," he answered simply.

Rachel smiled over the top of her glass. "Did she force you to learn?"

Puck snorted. "What do you think? She also worked a lot of nights at the hospital, so I had to make sure the brat didn't starve." He plated up a waffle and some bacon and set it down in front of her.

"This looks delicious," Rachel said sincerely, reaching for the butter and syrup on the table. After her first bite, she groaned appreciatively. "Oh, my God," she said behind her hand, her mouth still full. "S'amazing."

He lifted a brow and a knowing smirk broke out over his face. She sounded way too much like him just then and he found it hilarious. "Told ya."

She couldn't even roll her eyes at his arrogance, because it was completely warranted. The waffle on her plate was, without a doubt, the best one she'd had in her entire life. She barely spoke until she'd polished off every bit of food on her plate and even then she nearly picked it up to lick it clean. Instead, she reached for another waffle from the plate in the middle of the table. "How did you ever get girls to leave after a breakfast like this?" she teased, before tucking into waffle number two.

Puck shrugged and took a bite of his own waffle. "Never made anyone else breakfast before other than my family. And the guys at the station. No homo." Rachel's eyes briefly widened in surprise before turning warm and sparkly as she looked at him from across the table. He didn't know what that look meant exactly, but he was sure it was a good thing. (What? He was learning, okay?)

She opened her mouth to tease him again, but her phone ringing stopped her. Seeing Quinn's name on the display, she smiled apologetically to Puck and said, "It's Quinn; I should take this."

"S'no sweat, Smalls."

"Hi, Fabs," Rachel greeted.

"Rachel," Quinn sniffled.

Rachel's brows furrowed together. "Quinn, what's wrong?"

"Can—you—come—over?" she asked between hiccupping sobs.

"Of course. Just tell me why you're so upset." She mouthed "I don't know" at Noah's inquisitive look.

"Finn—"

"What happened?" she asked, concern flooding her voice.

More sobs poured through the line and Rachel managed to decipher "fight" and "broke up" over her friend's cries.

She pushed back her chair and stood, raking a hand through her hair. "I'll be right there. Do you need anything?"

Quinn went quiet for a moment before she began sniffling again. "Can you stop and get me a pregnancy test?"

Rachel's eyes rounded and she swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. "Give me half an hour," she replied before the line went dead. She blew out a breath and could feel the weight of Puck's gaze on her.

"Everything okay?" he asked, even though he knew it wasn't.

"No," Rachel shook her head. "Quinn and Finn got into a fight and though I'm not entirely sure because she was crying so hard, I think they broke up."

Both of Puck's eyebrows shot up. "What? No way."

"I'm going to go over there and check on her. She's really upset. I'll see what I can find out." She skirted around the table and grabbed his face, dropping a hard kiss to his lips. "Thanks for this morning—breakfast and everything," she said softly, with a kittenish smile lighting up her face.

Puck smirked up at her. "My pleasure, babe," he said lowly, pulling her down for another kiss. "Good luck with Q."

"Thanks. I'll call you later."

With that, she grabbed her phone and bag and shrugged into her coat. Pulling the door open, she came face to face with a bleary-eyed Finn. He had just lifted a hand to knock and was holding a brown paper sack in the other. She was sure it contained booze from the way he looked and smelled. In short, he looked about as awful as Quinn sounded. "Finn," she greeted coolly. She didn't know where the fault lay in this fight, but her loyalties were to her best friend. She heard Noah's footsteps approaching and she glanced over her shoulder at him once more and smiled before she walked out the door.

"Sup, bro?" Puck greeted, stepping back from the doorway to allow his friend access. "You look like shit."

"Fuck you. I don't wanna talk about it. I just want to drink and play X-Box so I can blow some shit up. Okay?"

"Sure. What're you drinkin'?"

* * *

Rachel used the key she had to Quinn's apartment and let herself inside. "Quinn?" she called, her voice travelling through the empty living room. She shed her coat and hung it up, dropped her bag by the door. Clutching the paper sack from Duane Reade, she walked towards Quinn's room. The nerves she had in her stomach were balling up and making her feel sick; she couldn't imagine what her best friend was feeling.

Knocking lightly, she pushed open the bedroom door and found her Quinn in the middle of the bed, crying and scooping peanut butter from the jumbo sized jar of Jif in her hand with an Oreo cookie. She was surrounded by junk food and discarded tissues while _P.S. I Love You_ played on the large television.

It was worse than she thought.

"Hi," Rachel said softly, padding over to sit next to her friend. "Do you want to talk about it?"

A fresh batch of tears welled up in her eyes and ran down her cheeks. "Did you bring it?"

Rachel nodded and held up the sack in her hand before tossing it onto the bed between them. "What happened, Fabs?" she asked quietly, reaching out to smooth blonde hair away from her face before gently prying the peanut butter jar from her grasp.

The blonde scrubbed her hands over her pretty face, wiping away the excess tears. She inhaled deeply and picked at the imaginary lint on the duvet. "It's his job," she murmured quietly.

"What about his job, Q?"

"It's dangerous!" she insisted, lifting her hazel eyes. "Look what happened to Puck!"

Rachel swallowed the lump in her throat that formed whenever she thought about what could have happened to her boyfriend. But as quickly as that thought entered her mind, she shoved it out again. He was _fine_. "Noah's okay," she said softly, "but I understand why Finn's job scares you."

"I told him that his job terrified me and he brushed it off like I was some sort of crazy person. He said he's never been hurt on the job and that he's always safe when he's working. When I pointed out that Puck had been safe and he had still been injured, he grew so frustrated with me and told me I didn't know what I was talking about. I _know_ he was upset when Puck was in the hospital. It tore him up. I saw it, you saw it. I'm not crazy!"

"Of course you're not crazy," Rachel insisted. "You can't help how you feel about the situation. Did you tell him that?"

"Yes, but it just led to this big huge fight and we were both yelling at each other about all kinds of things—what, I couldn't even tell you at this point. And then he told me to take a Midol and quit bitching."

Rachel gasped. That didn't sound anything like Finn. (It sounded more like something _her _boyfriend would say.)

"I know, right? And then that Midol comment—I don't know, it dawned on me that I haven't had a period for a while and that's when I thought that I might be pregnant. Then, I started thinking about how I am possibly having this man's baby and he's going to end up dying in a fire and leaving us all alone because he's too fucking selfish to even _listen_ to me. I never said I wanted him to quit his job, but I didn't need him to be a pigheaded asshat about it either." She flopped back against the pillows and buried her face in her hands.

"Did you tell him you might be pregnant?"

Quinn looked at her friend as though she'd grown a second head. "Get serious, Rachel. _Of course not_. I needed time to process and to find out if I really was so I could decide how to proceed."

Rachel brushed off the snippy retort (it wasn't the first, wouldn't be the last) and pressed on. "How did you and Finn leave things?"

Her eyes swam with tears again and her throat went dry. "I told him to get out, that I was tired of having a boyfriend that didn't listen to me and how I couldn't even look at him." The tears fell rapidly down her cheeks. "He—" she sniffled. "He asked if I was breaking up with him and—" Quinn began choking out sobs. "I said it seemed like it and asked him to please leave." She sat up and faced her best friend, worry marking her pretty features. "Rachel, I love him so much and I was just so awful. I don't want to lose him."

"Shh," Rachel said, wrapping her arms around her friend, hoping to offer some measure of comfort while she cried. "You two will figure this out. It was just a fight—couples fight, Q." Pulling back slightly, she grabbed a tissue from the box and handed it to Quinn.

"I hope you're right," she sniffled. Taking a few measured breaths, she focused intently on the drugstore bag on the bed. "I guess I should find out whether or not I have a baby on the way. God, what am I gonna do, Rachel?"

Rachel tipped Quinn's face up until their eyes met. "One thing at a time, Quinn. Go take the test."

Quinn nodded somberly and grabbed the bag, pushing herself off the bed. She walked slowly into the adjoining bathroom and closed the door.

A few minutes later, the door to the bathroom opened and Rachel stood up, unable to read Quinn's expression for what felt like the first time ever. "Well?"

* * *

They didn't talk for close to an hour, unless you count the impressive streams of profanities and insults shouted while they played Halo. Puck had no clue why Finn and Quinn got into a fight and really, he wasn't sure he wanted to ask. It wasn't that he didn't care, but rather that he knew shit all about dispensing advice for relationships. The only advice he'd really given Finn over the years in regards to women was how to get them in to bed and the most effective ways to sneak out in the morning. Now that he was, you know, _in a relationship_, that sort of thing was frowned upon and also not applicable in this situation anyway. So, yeah—that's that.

Finn tossed his controller down after he was destroyed and took a long pull from the bottle of whiskey he'd brought along. "Today fucking sucks," he grunted, sinking back into the cushions on the couch.

Puck scratched his jaw and sipped his beer (hey, it was 5 o'clock somewhere, alright?). "You wanna, like, talk about it or some shit?"

Finn looked at him like he'd lost his mind. "Really?"

"Fuck you," he said, mock offended. "I might be able to help or I can at least listen. I have known you my whole damn life, you know."

"Does Rachel have a problem with your job?" Finn asked suddenly, staring at the ceiling.

Puck scoffed. "Are you kidding? No way. Chicks _love_ firemen."

He cast a baleful eye at his best friend. "That's not what I asked and this is not helping."

"I don't know," Puck shrugged. "She's never said that it bothers her. Even after I got hurt she just said she'd been worried about me, but that was the extent of that conversation. I take it Quinn's got issues?"

"Big ones. She's convinced I'm gonna die or something and we got into a huge fight. And it got all heated and loud and we started throwing out all kinds of stupid shit to add to it that wasn't even relevant. Fuck. I think we actually broke up." He lifted the bottle to his lips again, drank deep. "This sucks," he sighed.

Puck was out of his element here, so he was gonna fake it until he made it. Why not, right? "Do you want to break up?" he asked. Finn looked at him like he'd lost his fucking mind. Whatever, it was a legit question.

"Of course I don't. I love her," Finn said resolutely.

Puck visibly winced at his declaration. It wasn't that he was opposed to that, but shit was new, okay? "Tell her that, then," he suggested.

"I have told her," Finn snapped. "She's just all weird about me being a fireman right now. I don't know what to do."

He really didn't either, but found himself asking, "Do you think it's at a point where you have to choose between her and your job?"

A deep crease formed in the middle of Finn's brow. "I don't know, man."

"And do you love her enough to choose her without feeling resentful?" Puck wasn't sure where this advice was coming from, but he suddenly felt like Yoda or something. (He supposed Rachel was partly at fault. His girl talked a lot and he soaked some of that up.) He arched a brow and sipped at his beer again.

"Yes," Finn replied without hesitation.

Puck choked on his beer. "Holy shit! Really?" He knew they'd been getting really serious, but this was beyond comprehension. This was like _marriage and rug rats _serious; that made him a little twitchy to think that his best friend was ready for that.

"Just save it, Puck. I don't want you busting my balls today. I'm depressed," Finn whined, flopping over to rest his head on the arm of the couch.

Rolling his eyes, he downed the rest of his beer, setting the bottle down with a thud on the coffee table. "Shut the fuck up, dude. I'm not busting your balls about it. Just a little surprised. S'all."

"Whatever…it doesn't matter now," Finn resigned, pulling at the whiskey bottle again.

Puck sat forward and grabbed Finn's phone off the coffee table. "Not gonna listen to this shit all goddamn day." He threw the phone at his friend and it bounced off his chest. "You wanna marry her and have a house full o'babies—fuckin' fix this, you idiot."

* * *

"I'm pregnant," Quinn said, the words spilling out of her lips as she stood in the doorway of the bathroom, the pregnancy test clutched in her left hand.

Rachel covered her mouth with her hands, her eyes wide and shiny and trained on her best friend. "_Oh my God! _How—how do you feel?"

"Happy…and sad. And _scared shitless_," she said, her voice wavering, tears clogging her throat. "Rachel, I'm having a baby."

She walked over to Quinn, tears blooming in her own eyes, and folded her arms tightly around her friend. "You're having a baby," Rachel whispered, feeling some of the same emotions as her newly pregnant—though mostly happy with a side of concerned mixed in.

Quinn pulled back and held up the positive evidence in her hand. The readout display clearly marked with the word _pregnant_. Her heart began pounding furiously in her ears and she felt the bile churning sickly in her stomach. "What the fuck am I going to do?" she cried.

Rachel tugged her over to the bed and pulled her down so they were sitting face to face. "Let's explore your options, shall we?" Quinn merely blinked owlishly back at her. "One, you can get back together with Finn and raise the baby with him. Two, you can raise this baby on your own. Three, you can have an ab—"

"No," Quinn adamantly said, shaking her head, tears spilling down her face again. "No, I want Finn and I want our baby." She held up a hand, "And I can see the next question on your mind, Rachel. I want to be with Finn…baby or no baby."

A smile curved slowly over her lips until she smiled so hard her face nearly hurt. "You're having a baby," she yelled, laughing exuberantly. "Just think of the outfits Kurt will buy!"

Quinn burst out laughing and fell back against the bed, clutching her sides. She could just imagine how their other best friend would dress her baby. "Will he be Uncle Kurt or Aunt Kurt, do you think?" she asked playfully.

Rachel collapsed into peals of laughter and together the girls laughed until they couldn't breathe.

Quinn's cell phone rang and Rachel fumbled for it on the night stand. "It's your baby daddy," she told her, causing another outburst of hysterical laughing.

"You answer," Quinn said, her laughter subsiding.

"What do you want me to say?" Rachel asked, eyeing the phone like it was a ticking time bomb.

"Put it on speaker and I'll help you."

"Quinn!"

"Answer it," she snapped.

Rachel glared at her friend, but hit the answer button, putting the call on speaker. "Hi, Finn."

"Rachel?" he asked confused.

"Yes, it's me." She could hear Noah's _Hey, baby_ in the background quickly followed by _Don't fucking chicken out, Hudson. _Rachel bit her lip to keep from laughing again.

"Can I talk to Quinn?"

Quinn leaned in and whispered her answer to Rachel. "She said if you want to talk you can come over."

"Is she still super pissed?" Finn asked, worried.

Rachel looked at her friend who had pressed a hand to her heart and looked like she was going to cry again. "I think you two will be okay," Rachel offered kindly.

"Will you—" he cleared his throat. "Will you tell her that I'm sorry and that I love her?"

The look on Quinn's face told Rachel all she needed to know. And that was that these two (soon to be three) would be better than okay. "I will tell her." She heard the boys talking quietly on the other end of the line.

"Puck told me to ask you about your new necklace," Finn said, clearly confused.

Her cheeks and neck flushed pink with embarrassment. Noah's laughter could be heard clear as day in the background.

"I don't even want to know," Finn said. "Tell Quinn I'll be over soon."

Rachel hung up the phone and handed it to Quinn, who was grinning wickedly at her. "Big Daddy's on his way over," she said hastily, scrambling to her feet. "I'll just be on my way."

"You and Puck are dirty," Quinn teased, chuckling at the poor, embarrassed look on Rachel's face.

"Well, evidently so are you and Finn since you're now tin roof rusted," Rachel tossed back with a smirk that turned into a bright smile. "God, you're having a baby." She placed her hands on the sides of the blonde's face. "Mazel tov," she said, leaning down to kiss her cheek. "You'll be an amazing mother, Fabs."

"Thanks…Aunt Rachel."

Rachel beamed proudly.

* * *

A couple hours later, after Puck had deemed him sober enough to not make an ass of himself, Finn stood outside Quinn's door, a bouquet of flowers in hand and apology on his lips. He rapped his knuckles on the door and nervously waited for her to answer. What felt like an eternity later, he heard the locks being undone and the door slowly swung open. "Hey," he said softly.

Quinn had spotted the flowers the moment she pulled the door open and her heart started racing. "Hey," she parroted.

Finn handed her the flowers. "These are for you," he told her. "I know they're your favorite, because you always stop and smell them whenever we pass a flower vendor."

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and slowly lifted the flowers to her nose, inhaling deeply the sweet scent of the cheerful, pink gerbera daisies. "Thank you," she whispered, stepping towards him and throwing her arms around his neck. He lifted her effortlessly, hugged her close, breathing in the scent of her hair as her legs slinked around his waist.

"I'm sorry," they whispered at the same time.

"I don't want to fight with you," Quinn murmured against his neck.

"Baby, I don't want to fight with you either," Finn countered.

At the word _baby,_ Quinn's nerves flapped wildly in her stomach like a thousand butterflies. She had to tell him. Leaning back, she ran her hand gently down the side of his boyishly handsome face before kissing him softly. Finn nipped and licked at her lips until she opened her mouth to him. He slipped inside and circled his tongue heatedly around hers, his fingers sliding into the waistband of her jeans to press against her warm skin. He kissed her long and hard until her head swam and they were both breathless. Pulling back again, she sucked in a ragged breath, her eyes slowly fluttering open.

Finn looked hotly back at her and her nerves dissipated instantly, quickly replaced by a warm, familiar ache between her thighs. She'd tell him later. It wasn't like she was going to be any less pregnant after they had make-up sex. "Bedroom," she ordered, threading her fingers through his hair and resting on the back of his neck. "Now."

His lips twitched into a crooked grin and he stepped further into her apartment, kicking the door closed behind them. "You got it, Q," he rasped.

* * *

After they made up (three times), they lay beneath the cool sheets with their legs tangled together. She had her arm draped over his middle, tracing patterns on his side with her fingertips. They'd had plenty of amazing sex before, but the way he'd been with her that afternoon in the gray light slanting through her room made her feel inexplicably wanted and needed, loved. He made her feel so loved that it had brought tears to her eyes. She still hadn't found the courage to tell him the big news, but she felt certain that once the initial shock wore off that they would be fine.

As a couple and as a family.

"Finn," she said quietly into the dark.

"Hmm?" His hand idly stroked her hip.

"I have something I need to tell you."

"If it's that you want to go again you're going to have to feed me first. I'm starving," he said, chuckling.

Quinn reached for the lamp on the night stand, turned it on. She sat up, wrapping the sheet around her and smoothing her hair behind her ears.

Finn didn't like the look on her face and it made him feel sick. He really hoped that after everything they'd just shared she wasn't going to tell him this wasn't going to work. Sitting up, he leaned back against the headboard and grabbed her hand, linking their fingers together. "Everything okay?" he asked, concern flooding his voice, his eyes softening as they met hers. She looked terrified.

She swallowed thickly and cleared her throat, steeling her nerves to get the information out. He squeezed her hand reassuringly. "I hope so. I'm—I," she trailed off, blowing out a breath.

He sat forward and ran his fingers through her hair. "You can tell me anything."

"I'm pregnant," Quinn whispered.

Finn's eyes rounded and his eyebrows were nearly to his hairline. His heart flipped over in his chest and he stared at his girlfriend. The woman that he loved. The mother of his unborn child. A baby. It was definitely unexpected, but he was pretty sure, no, he _was sure_ that he was—_excited_.

"Would you please say something?" Quinn snapped, her big eyes filling with tears for the umpteenth time that day.

"You're pregnant?" he asked, just to be sure.

Quinn nodded soberly. "I took a test this afternoon." His expression was unreadable and it was freaking her out. She opened her mouth to say—well, what she wasn't sure, but he cut her off by grabbing her face and kissing her sweetly.

"We're having a baby?" he asked against her lips.

She choked out a sob and nodded again, her vision blurring with tears. "Are you okay?" she asked, holding the sides of his face, blinking up at him.

A smile broke out over his face and he gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "It's surprising," he admitted and her face fell into a little frown. "But, I love you, Quinn. I love you so much and now you're pregnant with a baby that's half you and half me. What's not to be happy about?"

Happy tears streamed down her cheeks and she peppered his face with kisses. "I'm so relieved," she laughed. "I didn't know how you'd react." He brushed her tears away with his thumbs and she smiled. "I love you, Finn Hudson, and even though I'm terrified, I already love our baby." She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him hard.

"I'll get a new job," he said against her hair. She unwrapped her arms and leaned back. "A less dangerous one."

"Finn, no, you don't have to," she insisted. "You love—"

"Quinn," he cut her off. "I get it now—what you were trying to tell me earlier. I've got a family to think about now. I'll start looking tomorrow."

She didn't know it was possible to love him more than she already did, but he managed to prove her wrong. With a watery smile, she ran her hands over his chest. "I love you," she mouthed.

"I love you," he whispered back.

* * *

Once she'd left Quinn's apartment, Rachel ran some errands and ended up shopping the afternoon away. She hadn't intended to shop for the baby, but when she'd passed by this little boutique with the sweetest display she'd ever seen in a window, she stopped and bought her friend a present. Well, two actually. For Quinn she bought this adorable and trendy purple maternity top; and for the baby, she found the cutest stuffed elephant and she just couldn't resist.

Overall, she ended up spending too much money, but she found the most amazing pair of green heels; some luxurious smelling bubble bath that she couldn't wait to try out; a pair of jeans that hugged every curve just right; a funny book for the new daddy-to-be; a shirt for Noah just because it would make his eyes look amazing; and some underwear that would drive him insane in a couple of weeks once they were allowed to actually have sex again.

She was exhausted when she got home. Dumping all of the bags on the bed, she rifled through one until she found her new bubble bath, deciding that a hot bath and a glass of wine was just what she needed to unwind. She'd sent Noah a text earlier that she'd be at home and to let her know if he was coming over. He hadn't replied yet and she figured he was probably taking a nap or playing his guitar.

Padding into the bathroom, she turned the water on full blast and dumped in a generous portion of her new bubble bath. She lit some candles and turned on some music before going to the kitchen and pouring a large glass of wine. Stripping down and throwing her clothes into the hamper, she swept her hair up into a messy bun, picked up her glass and eased down into the tub, sighing as the hot water enveloped her body. Her muscles were already thanking her. She sipped her wine and rested her head back against the little bath pillow and closed her eyes, enjoying the sounds of John Mayer floating in the air around her.

* * *

Puck knocked for the third time and she still didn't answer the door. He knew she was home by the music he could hear playing and the fact that she told him she was there. Reaching into the front pocket of his jeans, he pulled out his keys and let himself inside her apartment.

He kicked off his shoes and tossed his jacket over the back of the couch before picking it up again only to hang it in the closet. (Fuck you, he's not whipped. He just preferred to keep the peace and not listen to his girlfriend bitch about making a mess of her apartment, okay?) Soft light was flickering in the door of the bathroom that she left ajar and he could hear her singing along with the music. Poking his head in the room, his blood swam south when he got an eyeful of Rachel relaxed back in the tub, eyes closed and one long leg peeking through the suds, her foot resting on the faucet. Naked and wet Rachel was undoubtedly his favorite.

"Hey," he greeted loudly over the music.

Rachel's eyes snapped open and she started screaming at the top of her lungs. Finally registering that her would-be-assailant was actually her boyfriend, the screaming subsided and she scowled at him for scaring the life out of her. "Puck!" she bit out through gritted teeth, her heart hammering away in her chest. "You scared the hell out of me!"

Puck laughed and held up his hands. "Sorry, babe," he grinned, raking his eyes over newly exposed body parts (most specifically her tits).

"God," she huffed, placing a hand over her still rapidly beating heart. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming over?" Pouting, she lay back in the tub and willed herself to relax again.

Puck's eyebrow arched up and he folded his arms over chest. "I did—check your phone."

"Oh," she murmured, casting apologetic eyes his way. "Sorry. I guess I left it on my bed." She sipped her wine and smiled coyly at him. "Want to join me?" she asked, her smile growing naughty.

He liked her so much it was stupid. "Baths are for chicks." She rolled her eyes at him. "I might make an exception though if you're gonna fuck me in the tub…or anywhere for that matter."

"Noah," she sighed. "It's not that I don't _want _to, you know that." She arched her back and wiggled until she found a more comfortable position against the porcelain.

"How 'bout I just sit and watch?" he asked, putting down the lid on the toilet and taking a seat. "S'pretty good show so far."

Rachel pulled a face. "Okay, one, you're disgusting and two, I'm not even doing anything."

His grin was quick and wicked. "But you could be. Come on, baby! There're candles, some sexy music playing and best of all, you're wet and naked. If that's not the makings of a hot show, I don't know what is," he told her flatly. He cocked his head to the side and smirked at her.

She rolled her eyes again and barked out a laugh. "I bought you something today while I was out shopping," she said, ignoring his previous statement. His eyes lit up and she smiled. "It's in a bag on my bed if you want it."

He wagged his brows playfully at her and walked into her bedroom. There were no less than six shopping bags scattered on her bed and he didn't know where to start. He picked one at random and pulled out a book. Turning it over, he read the title and felt like he'd been sucker punched right in the solar plexus. _The Dudes' Guide to Pregnancy_. "What the fuck?" He rooted through the same bag and pulled out a stuffed elephant and a purple top clearly marked _maternity_. "Oh, Jesus fucking Christ. This is not happening."

"Noah?" Rachel called. "Did you find it?"

Puck stomped back into the bathroom and Rachel smiled at him before taking another gulp from her wineglass. "Put the damn wine down," he snapped, holding up the book. "Something you need to tell me?"

Rachel saw what he was holding and spit her wine out. Coughing and laughing she waved her hand furiously. "No! Oh my God, no, you idiot! That's not your present."

He blew out a breath and felt some semblance of order being restored in the universe. "So you're not knocked up?"

"No!" she cried. "Absolutely not."

"Thank fuck!" he exclaimed. He leaned over the tub and snatched the glass of wine from her hands, draining it in one greedy gulp. "I mean, no offense or anything, Smalls, but shit…"

His face was positively ashen. "None taken," Rachel giggled. "I bought you a shirt, actually."

"Oh." He let out a ragged breath and shook his head to get every last thought of him becoming a father out of his brain. "Thanks." He bent over and kissed her.

"God, you were really spooked, weren't you?" Rachel asked, reaching for his hand.

"Uh, yeah. Want more wine? I'mma get you some. I could use a drink right now myself."

She chuckled at his retreating back. He returned quickly with a full glass of red for her and a beer for him. "So, who's the book really for?" he asked, sitting back down on the toilet seat.

Rachel wasn't sure whether or not she should tell him. It wasn't her secret to tell, but he was going to find out eventually. She worried her bottom lip between her teeth and he arched an inquisitive brow as he took a pull off the bottle.

"It's—it's for Finn."

It was Puck's turn for a spit take and the yellow bathmat bore the brunt of the liquid assault. "Finn?" He coughed roughly, which only aggravated his injuries. "Son of a bitch," he winced.

Rachel flew out of the tub and grabbed the glass on the sink, filling it with cool water. "Here," she said softly, taking away the beer and thrusting the glass into his hands. "Drink this."

He gratefully accepted the water and gulped it down.

She pulled the fluffy bath towel off the bar and wrapped it around her body. Turning off the music, the room went eerily quiet. "Are you all right, Noah?" she asked, breaking the silence.

"Yeah," he said gruffly, breathing through the pain in his side. Once it had subsided, he rubbed his hand along the back of her thigh. "So, Finn and Quinn, huh? He didn't say anything to me."

Rachel sighed. She felt so guilty for telling him, but at the same time, he was her boyfriend and keeping it from him didn't feel right either. "He didn't know. When Quinn called me this morning she asked me to get a test for her. She just found out."

"She tell him yet?" His best friend was having a baby. That was fucking insane.

Rachel shrugged. "That was the plan, but I haven't heard from her." She ran her hand over his hair. "Why don't we order a pizza, watch a movie and forget about this drama?" she suggested, only because she sensed that he really could use the distraction and frankly she could use a little one, too.

"Sold. Can I pick the movie?" he asked hopefully.

Grinning, she nodded her head. He was too cute for his own good sometimes. "Sure."

* * *

He picked _Goodfellas_.

She didn't mind; it was one of her DVDs anyway. He told her he was impressed that she owned "such a kick ass movie."

Noah had been unusually quiet while they ate their pizza and the innuendos were kept to an absolute minimum. Rachel knew the news about Finn and Quinn's impending arrival had come at quite a shock (to her, too), but she couldn't shake the feeling that something else was bothering him. She just wasn't sure what it could be. But, he pulled her close during the movie and slipped his fingers into her hair, gently running them through the long tresses. She was so comfortable lying with her head on his lap, the head massage lulling her to sleep.

She'd just closed her eyes when Noah paused the movie. "Does my job bother you?" he asked suddenly, startling her.

"Hmm?" She rolled onto her back so she could look up at him.

He frowned a little that he had to repeat the question. This conversation didn't fall under the category of _shit he usually talks about_. "Do you have a problem with my job?"

Rachel sat up and faced him, folding her legs over his lap. "Why would I have a problem with your job?"

Puck lifted a shoulder carelessly and stared intently at his hand that was currently resting on her knee. "I dunno. Quinn and Finn almost broke up because of his job and—"

"Noah," Rachel said softly, sweetly, running her hand over his bicep, "we're not Finn and Quinn. I know that your job is dangerous and while I do worry about your safety, I am not bothered by the fact that you work as a fireman."

"S'cause I'm so sexy, right?" he asked, smirking at her. She cocked her head to the side and pinned him with a no-nonsense look. Talking about feelings was just not something he was comfortable with yet. Sighing, he rubbed a hand over the back of his head. "I just don't want you to hold it in if you do have a problem with it. I'd rather have all the cards on the table and not have it come out later or whatever."

"If I had a problem with your job, we wouldn't be together. If I couldn't handle it, I would have walked away after you were injured _on the job_. Your job is a part of who you are, Noah. I accept that. I'd never tell you to stop doing something that you love."

"I don't _love _it," he argued. "S'just a job."

"Don't bullshit me," she bit out.

Puck chuckled then. "I'm rubbing off on you—I like it. Okay, it's not just a job. But I didn't move here so I could become a firefighter. Coulda done that back in Ohio."

A little smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. He so rarely talked openly like this with her. She only pressed him on occasion for more information because she didn't want to come off as overbearing. This felt like real growth in their relationship. (That was also something she'd never say _to _him, because he would be relentless in teasing her for sounding like a nerd.) "Why did you move here?"

He averted his eyes again. "Wanted to be a musician."

"You are," she said simply.

"Not in a cover band, Berry," he grumbled. "I wanted to make the big time, tour with my band, have people buy my music—all of that."

Rachel nodded and her heart broke a little for him. She knew those dreams all too well—they were her dreams, too, after all. "What stopped you from trying?"

"Being broke all the fucking time and living in cramped, shitty apartments that I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. Finn and I both got jobs with the department thinking we could make some money and work on our music part time until that took off. I don't know, life just went a different way, I guess."

She didn't say anything for a moment. Her path hadn't exactly been the same. Sure, she had the big dreams, but she moved to the city with money in her pocket and a best friend with a trust fund. There'd never been roach-infested apartments at any turn in her life. Maybe if there had been, she, too, might have wavered on her dreams a little when things weren't going her way. She really couldn't say for certain.

"What's stopping you now?" she asked pointedly.

"I dunno," he shrugged again. "Too old I guess."

A scowl broke out on her face and her brows drew together tightly. "To use your own colorful language, Noah, fuck that! _Fuck. That. _I'm only two years younger than you and if you think that I've achieved all I want to in the music industry you're sorely mistaken. I've wanted Broadway for as long as I can remember, but it was never the _only_ thing that I hoped to accomplish in my career. I've been giving serious thought lately to leaving _Chicago_ and trying to get my solo career going."

Puck looked surprised. "What? I didn't know that."

"I love playing Velma Kelly, I do, but after 15 months of it, I'm ready for something new. I'm just weighing my options right now. But this isn't about me. All I'm saying, Noah, is if you want music, go after it."

(Has he mentioned that his girl is awesome?)

"Thanks, baby. I don't know that I do. I do love my job with FDNY and _Fire Extinguishers_ is a pretty kick ass band," he grinned roguishly. "But it's nice to know you've got my back if I want to do something else."

"I'll support you with anything you want to do," she said with a warm smile. "Well, unless you decide to do drugs or any other illegal activities."

He rolled his eyes and laughed at his pragmatic girl. Cupping her chin, he pulled her mouth to his and kissed her deep. "Thanks," he murmured against her lips.

Rachel's phone beeped with a text message and she leaned forward to grab it off her end table. "It's from Quinn," she said, feeling the nerves bundle in her stomach again. She quickly hit the button to read the message.

_**Big Daddy knows. We're both excited about our baby. BABY…holy shit!**_

She smiled and showed Noah the message.

"Big Daddy?" he snorted.

Rachel giggled and covered her mouth with her hand. "I called him that earlier before I was leaving Quinn's and she liked it."

"I can't believe they're having a kid. Fucking Finn Hudson with a kid. That's nuts."

She smiled brightly. "I think they'll be great."

Puck shrugged again. Quinn maybe, but he had his doubts about Finn. Dude pulled some epically stupid shit in his time. He hoped that the baby inherited more of Quinn's genes. "So, Smalls, how 'bout we go in your room and I make you call me daddy?"


	23. Back in the Saddle

The city was quieter than normal, thanks to a heavy blanket of snow that had fallen overnight. But Rachel was more than happy to brave the weather (she'd always loved snow) to meet her best friends for brunch before her shows. Kurt had just returned from his sunny vacation in Mexico with Drew and she definitely didn't want to miss his reaction when Quinn told him the news about the baby.

So she trudged along the snowy sidewalk on Amsterdam Avenue, pulling her hat down further over her ears when the wind picked up and whipped her hair around wildly. It was bitterly cold out and while she adored snow, the frigid temperature left a lot to be desired. Her teeth were starting to chatter when she blissfully spotted the familiar navy blue awning outside Sarabeth's. This was, without a doubt, their favorite brunch spot in the city and they met there a couple times a month.

Walking through the door, Rachel breathed deeply as the warmth enveloped her body and the heavenly smells of pancakes and omelets hit her nose. The restaurant, normally always crowded, was surprisingly sparse today and she easily spotted Quinn's familiar blonde head at a table in the back reading something on her phone.

"Hey, mama," Rachel greeted when she reached the table, dropping her bags down into a vacant chair.

Quinn glanced up and a smile broke out across her pretty face. "Hi, doll," she replied warmly as Rachel slid into the booth beside her.

"How're you feeling?"

The blonde scrunched up her nose. "So far okay, but just reading the words _coddled eggs_ on the menu made my stomach roil. I think I'll pass on my usual omelet today."

"Probably a very good idea," Rachel agreed, shrugging out of her red coat. "I really can't wait for you to tell Kurt. He may very well stroke out in the middle of his frittata." They traded amused looks and giggled loudly.

"I have brunch on the line that says he'll want to be called _Aunt Kurt_," Quinn said laughingly, holding out her hand.

Rachel snickered and shook Quinn's hand. "You're on, because there's no way Drew would let that happen."

"Doesn't matter," she grinned wryly. "All he has to do is suggest it and I win." She picked up her orange juice and sipped.

"Fair enough," Rachel conceded with a laugh. She looked down at her menu and asked, "Do you know when Finn plans on telling Noah about the baby?"

"I'm not sure. Why?"

"I forgot to tell you when you called the other day. Well, that's not actually true. I didn't forget, but I couldn't tell you because Noah was in the room with me and—"

"Spit it out," Quinn snapped, making Rachel's eyebrows shoot up. "I'm sorry, Rach," she sighed. "I've already become so moody and I'm barely eight weeks. This is going to be such a long pregnancy. I fucking cried over a commercial for fabric softener the other day. _Fabric softener_. Ridiculous."

"Aw, honey," Rachel cooed, smoothing a hand over the blonde's head. "It's perfectly normal. Besides, it's not like this is the first time I've been Fabrayed," she teased, referring to the term she and Kurt came up with years ago for being on the receiving end of one of Quinn's bitchy moods.

Quinn shrugged lightly and laughed. "Good point. As you were saying," she motioned for her friend to continue her story.

"Okay, please don't get mad at me," Rachel began slowly, "but I had to tell Noah about the baby." She bit her lip and gave her friend a guilty look.

The blonde's lips twitched at her overly dramatic friend. "Well, obviously I hate you now," she said dryly. "He's going to find out soon enough anyway, but why did you _have _to tell him?"

"Okay…see, after I left your apartment Wednesday, I went shopping and because I was so excited, I ended up buying you, Finn and the baby some gifts—"

Quinn's eyes lit up. "Gifts?" She curved her hands down like paws and began panting like an excited puppy. Giggling, Rachel reached for a bag she'd brought with her and handed it to Quinn, smiling as her friend tore into the gift bag. "Cute top!" she exclaimed, studying the purple shirt. "Awwwwww!" She held up the little plush elephant as tears stung her eyes. "This is so sweet, Rachel. Oh, _God_," she sniffled. "I can't believe I'm crying again." She threw her arms around Rachel and hugged her tight. "Thank you."

Rachel stifled a laugh and hugged her back. She suspected that this was only the first of many emotional outbursts to come in the next eight months. "You're welcome. There's something in there for Finn, too."

Pulling back, Quinn swiped at her eyes, feeling foolish for all the crying. She reached into the bag and pulled out the book, barking out a laugh when she read the title. "He'll love this."

"That book is the whole reason I had to tell my boyfriend about the baby."

Quinn's eyes sparkled with recognition. "Hell, he thought that book was for him, didn't he?"

Rachel nodded her head and, laughing, recounted that night in her bathroom where he'd mistakenly thought he was about to become a father and _that _was how she'd chosen to tell him. "…so it'll be really great when Finn finally tells him because I know that Noah's having a hard time not calling him up and asking him about it even though he'd vehemently deny that."

"Their bromance is adorable," Quinn giggled, placing the gifts back in the bag.

"It really is," Rachel nodded, a smile in place. Seeing Kurt walk in the door, she nudged Quinn with her elbow. "Kurt's here."

"Buenos Dias, mi amigas!" Kurt greeted smoothly when he reached the table. He slipped off his stylish coat and removed his hat before easing down into the seat across from his friends.

Quinn's eyebrow arched slowly. "Are you still drunk from Mexico?"

Kurt gingerly ran a hand over his hair to quell any fly-aways and playfully glared across the table. "Missed you, too, Fabs."

"Divalicious," he grinned, turning his focus to the brunette.

"How was Mexico?" Rachel asked excitedly, wanting to hear all about his trip with Drew.

His eyes glinted happily and a teasing grin pulled across his lips. "Engaging."

Rachel felt Quinn's hand grasp her wrist and they both leaned forward in their seats. "Are you—"

"Betrothed?" Kurt interrupted, folding his hands dramatically on the table. "Yes, yes I am."

The three friends let out a collective squeal that drew stares from the diners around them.

"Oh, my God, Kurt! I'm so happy for you!" Rachel gushed, sliding out of her seat so she could hug him.

Quinn followed suit and kissed his cheeks, feeling her eyes well up again. "How'd he propose?" she asked, slipping back into the booth.

Kurt placed a hand on his chest and sighed, recounting the story of the beach at sunrise where Drew asked him if he'd spend the rest of his life with him. When he was finished, the two girls beamed at him with tears in their eyes.

"Okay, that's my news. What's been going on in NYC with you two? Rach, how's it going with your _boyfriend_?"

She gave him a dimpled smile; she loved that Noah had that title now. "Things are going really well, though he has been a bit grouchy lately because of his injuries and the fact that he can't workout the way he wants to or go back to work at the station. He starts back next week, but he's on desk duty and to say he's not thrilled about that would be quite the understatement. But _we're_ good."

"He's probably just grouchy because you two aren't able to hump like bunnies," Quinn provided casually over the top of her juice.

"When you two are allowed at it again, he'll probably reinjure himself," Kurt added, making Quinn laugh wickedly.

"God, you two, would be quiet?" Rachel hissed. "We're in _public_." She looked around to make sure no one else was listening and leaned in closer to the table and lowered her voice. "But he's not complaining _that_ much, thank you." She smiled a little smugly at her friends, hoping to shut them up.

"Doing a lot of this, huh?" Quinn asked, making a very obscene gesture with her mouth and hand.

Rachel's cheeks flamed crimson while Kurt brayed with laughter. The waitress mercifully chose that moment to come and take their orders so she at least didn't have to give the embarrassing answer her friends already knew anyway.

Once the waitress walked away with their orders, Kurt turned his attention to Quinn. "Q—any news?"

Quinn studied her manicure and lifted a shoulder. "Had a meeting with the Bergdorf's people, checked on our new collection, sketched a few things, found out I was pregnant."

Kurt choked on his water and began coughing. His eyes watered and he hit his chest with a fist a few times to try and curb this fit. "What?" he managed, coughing again.

"It was just a meeting with Bergdorf's, Kurt," Quinn said understatedly. "Everything is fine." She felt Rachel kick her under the table and she bit her cheek to keep from laughing when his eyes went round and pleading.

"Not that!" he snapped. "You're pregnant?"

"Oh! _That_!" she said, a sneaky grin forming on her pretty face. "Yes, I am. Shocked? So was I."

"Oh my god! Oh my god! _OH MY GOD!_" he very nearly screeched, once again earning annoyed stares from the handful of diners in the eatery. "I—I can honestly say that you've rendered me incapable of forming coherent thoughts."

"I know," Quinn nodded. "That was me when I found out, but I'm really so excited—Finn, too. He's going to be the best daddy." Her eyes welled up again and she groaned in frustration.

"Get used to the waterworks," Rachel told him, handing Quinn a napkin. "This isn't the first cry she's had in twenty minutes."

"Well, Finn may be the best daddy, but I'm going to be the best uncle there is."

"Ha!" Rachel blurted loudly, slapping her hand on the table. "You owe me breakfast," she said to Quinn.

"Dammit," Quinn frowned. "How could you let me down like that?" At his inquisitive look, she added, "You were supposed to be _Aunt Kurt_."

His brow arched nearly to his hairline and he pursed his lips. "That's too gay even for me, Q." Rachel snorted and giggled behind her hand while Quinn just shook her head, fighting the urge to grin at him.

"God, look at the three of us," Quinn said. "Rachel's got a hot boyfriend she's serious about, you and Drew are getting married, I'm makin' babies…Face it, we're growing up, kids." Her eyes welled for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

"Quinn, I swear to god," Kurt interrupted, holding up his hand. "I love you, but the tears are freaking me out. Take your pregnancy hormones and Fabray them into submission."

Rachel laughed.

Quinn frowned and cried again.

Kurt smirked and sipped his juice.

… … …

It had been a few days since Puck found out that his best friend was going to be a father. Of course his girlfriend had let that cat out of the bag and he was supposed to pretend he didn't know anything at all about it. It hadn't been _that _hard to do. Finn had been working and they had only texted a couple times throughout the week.

So when his buddy called him up and invited him out for pizza and beer, he was pretty sure the news was gonna drop then.

They were sitting in their favorite pizza joint and Finn was acting shifty, which was his tell that something big was going on. Puck had just taken a huge bite when Finn blurted "Quinn's pregnant." He was slightly thankful he already knew that bit of info, otherwise the choking he could have experienced would have fucking sucked. "Hey, man—congrats!" he mumbled with a mouthful.

Finn cocked his head to the side and regarded his friend. "Dude, Rachel told you, didn't she?"

Puck nodded, swallowing his pizza. "Yep. In her defense, I thought I was the one having a kid and she told me before I had a goddamn heart attack." Finn chuckled and Puck smirked, taking a swig of his beer. "How d'you feel about all this? Pretty heavy stuff, bro."

The taller man shrugged as a smile stole across his face. "I was shocked at first, but now that it's sunk in, I'm excited, man. A little freaked, but mostly just excited."

Puck still couldn't believe that his best friend was reproducing and happy about it. But whatever. He could be happy for him. "S'weird. You're gonna be someone's _dad_." That word hung heavily in the air around them.

Finn took a pull from his beer and nodded slightly. "Yeah."

It dawned on him then that Finn would get a chance to be something neither of them had growing up. He knew then that Finn would kick ass and take names in fatherhood because he would never want his child to go through what either of them did. "Think of all the cool shit we can teach your kid, dude."

Finn laughed and the two knocked their beer bottles together. That was the best endorsement Finn could have imagined from his best friend. He hoped that Puck would take his other piece of news as well as he had the baby, but he wasn't holding his breath. "I have some other news," Finn said slowly.

Puck grabbed another slice and took a huge bite, lifting a questioning brow.

"Remember how I told you about the fight Quinn and I had about my job?"

He swallowed his food and tried to ignore the weird feeling he had in his gut he knew had nothing to do with the pizza. "Yeah…"

"I'm quitting the department," Finn told him, dropping his eyes to the label on the beer bottle.

"Fuck you, man, don't joke about that. It's not funny."

"It's not a joke, Puck," Finn said seriously.

His brows pinched together and he glowered across the table at his idiot best friend. "So Quinn flips her shit about the job and you're quitting? You gonna chop off your balls and hand them over to her, too?" A baby was one thing, but Finn quitting a job he loves because of a woman was unacceptable to him. And yeah, he'd asked Rachel if she had a problem with his job, but that wasn't code for "if you do, I'll quit" thank you very much. Fuck that noise. He'd never quit something he loved for pussy. No way. No how.

"C'mon, dude, don't be like that," Finn sighed, running a hand over his jaw. "It's different now—we're having a baby."

"I fucking know that," Puck said, pouting a little as he toyed with a coaster on the table.

"Besides, you were asking me the other day when Q and I got into that fight whether I loved her enough to choose her over the department. I told you yes. Why are you acting so surprised?"

He frowned, not appreciating that his previous advice was coming back to bite him in the ass. "Because it was all hypothetical or whatever that shit is. I didn't think she'd actually force you to choose. The hell's that about?" He pulled another frown when he lifted the bottle to his mouth and discovered it was empty.

Finn sighed again. "She didn't. This is my choice and it's a choice I made for my _family_." Puck's brows shot up briefly before a scowl broke out on his face. "Quinn insisted that I didn't need to quit—"

"So don't!" Puck bit out.

"But I get it now," Finn said quietly. "Our job is dangerous and I don't want something to happen leaving my kid to grow up without a dad. We both know what that's like."

Yes, they both knew what that was like and it fucking sucked. Finn had a point and Puck couldn't deny it. That didn't mean he had to like it though. "So what're you gonna do? Isn't Q rich or some shit? You could be a kept man and—well, on second thought never having to work again sounds pretty fucking awesome." He was only half teasing.

"Shut up, asshole," Finn said laughingly. "I'm going to see about becoming an EMT. Got experience already and maybe I'll take the classes to become a paramedic."

Puck shook his head disappointedly. "Those guys are pussies, dude." At Finn's warning look, he sighed. "But hey, man, whatever's clever, I guess."

Finn rolled his eyes. "Thanks, dickhead."

"No sweat off my balls," Puck shrugged. And as far as he was concerned, that was the end of that conversation. "So, pool or darts?"

… … …

His first week back at work had been total bullshit. _Fucking desk duty_—just another name for _station bitch_. Calls came in and everyone rushed to get in their gear while he basically sat around with his thumb up his ass. Then he cleaned up after everyone and answered the goddamn phone. He was less than amused with the whole situation.

As if desk duty wasn't bad enough, Finn had spoken with their Captain about wanting to leave the department to become an EMT. Puck was honestly surprised that conversation went over the way it had. He'd fully expected yelling followed by a fuckload of teasing, but when the boss man learned it was for a baby on the way, he'd clapped Finn on the back, wished him congratulations and told him he'd do whatever he could to help him out. Part of him had hoped Finn wasn't actually serious about quitting, but once the news hit the station, reality sunk in.

He couldn't imagine going on a job without Finn by his side (and fuck you, it's not as gay as it sounds). It's just that they'd worked together for so long and been best friends even longer that having to adjust to a new member on their rig was going to be completely fucked up for a while.

As for his relationship, he still wasn't allowed to have sex, and his girlfriend was strict about that (he had the blue balls to prove it). Though the other night things had gotten a little carried away on his couch and he thought for sure Rachel was about to give in and blissfully fuck him silly. But, at the last second she pushed him away, gritted her teeth and reminded him (like he'd fucking forgotten) they couldn't do it yet with an apology on her lips. And yeah, they did some other stuff to relieve some tension, but that was getting old. Because honestly? There was only so much mutual masturbation you could do before you went a little crazy.

So now he sat impatiently in the waiting room for his follow up appointment with the doctor. If the doc didn't give him the green light to get his dick wet today, he was pretty sure he'd end up throwing fists or something in protest. (He found it a little funny that this was his second doctor visit in the span of a few months where results determined whether or not he'd get to fuck Rachel Berry. Whatever. Totally worth it.) It'd really be great timing, too, getting the green light, because he and Rachel both had the whole next day off and he'd like nothing more than to spend it banging headboards with her. She didn't even know about this appointment, so provided he got the news he wanted, he planned to surprise her after her show tonight.

"Puckerman?" a nurse called into the waiting room, snapping him from his thoughts. He stood up and went to find out his fate.

… … …

Puck walked down main aisle until he found the row where his seat was located. He apparently hadn't gotten the memo to get there so goddamn early, so he had to practically crawl over the elitist theater dicks that moved exactly an inch for him to pass by. Fuckers. So not only did he show up here to watch _Chicago_ alone, he was now seated between two elderly women whose idea of smelling nice was spraying the entire goddamn bottle of perfume on before they went out on the town.

He sat back in his seat and flipped open the Playbill and read Rachel's bio just as the lights went down and the music began.

… … …

He liked the show a lot. You know, once he paid attention to the story and not just the chicks in tasteful lingerie. And Rachel's voice gave him goose bumps. (Shut up!) But seriously, his girl was _so good_ it was insane. She'd talked a little about how she was getting bored with the show, but you'd never know it with the way she performed. Everyone in the place went crazy for her, jumping to their feet when she walked out on stage at the end and he was right there with them, clapping and whistling for her.

And while he knew she couldn't see him (she had no idea he was even there), she looked right over in his direction when he whistled and he smirked just in case.

… … …

Puck didn't wait for the retirement community in his row to clear out before he bolted out of the theater. His lungs were really in need of fresh air after spending two hours next to the excessively perfumed.

People were already lined up outside the stage door when he got there, discussing the show and the performances and hoping they'd get autographs. He knew they would. Rachel told him once that she and the other cast members always greeted the fans after the show. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he walked away from the majority of the crowd and leaned back against the brick of the building to wait for her.

It wasn't long before the crowd perked up, so he looked over just as she stepped out the door with a smile on her face. Seeing her in Broadway celebrity mode was kind of weird since he really hadn't before, but it was also totally hot knowing that his girlfriend was such a big deal. Of course that wasn't why he was with her, but that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy it, right?

Ten minutes passed before he started getting antsy. On a regular night, he wouldn't care how long she took because he'd just be at home or at work and she could sign autographs until her hand cramped.

But tonight? He had important business to share with her. (That business being fucking her. Repeatedly.) The doc had given him the all clear (_finally_) and he'd asked for that shit in writing. Rachel would want proof (because a couple weeks ago he lied and said the doc okay'd it when he really hadn't…whatever, desperate times, desperate measures) and he currently had that proof tucked safely into his back pocket. Instead of autographing his Playbill, maybe he'd have her sign that and then jump on his dick.

Okay, seriously. These theater fans needed to get lost. He thought he could be patient, but six weeks without sex left him fresh out. The only thing he would possibly stop for on the way back to his place was food and that was only so they would had plenty of energy for this marathon they were about to start. God, he couldn't take it anymore, so he walked closer and waited for her to notice him.

Rachel signed her name on the Playbill and handed it back to the woman standing in front of her, glancing up to quickly smile at her and move to the next person. She did a double take when she saw him standing away from the dwindling crowd, hands tucked into his pockets and watching her with that lazy, half smile-half smirk on his lips. Smiling back at him, she held up her finger indicating she just needed another minute.

She quickly signed the last few autographs and thanked them for coming to the show before walking over to where he was waiting for her. Tilting her head to the side, she smiled brightly up at him. "Hi."

God, she looked so fucking cute with her freshly scrubbed face, hair in a ponytail, all bright eyes and big smiles. "Hey," he grinned back.

"What are you doing here?"

"Had a present to give ya." His grin grew wicked and he reached into his pocket and fished out the piece of paper that was the equivalent of a golden ticket. He handed it to her and waited for her to read. Her brow quirked up skeptically, but she unfolded the slip of paper and read. It took approximately five seconds before her face lit up.

"Oh, thank you God," she all but growled. She looked up excitedly and hooked her hand around his arm, tugging impatiently. "Let's go."

He laughed as he followed after her. She was practically _marching_ down the damn street. It was hilarious how worked up she was. "You wanna stop first? Get some food?"

Rachel whirled around and gave him an incredulous look. "Absolutely not, Noah," she scoffed.

"Why not? Figured you'd be hungry after your show." He bit the inside of his lip to keep from laughing outwardly at the wild look in her eyes.

"Because we can eat in bed. You can't fuck me in a restaurant. Let's go."

Puck cast his eyes towards the sky and offered a little thanks to the big guy upstairs because he knew tonight was going to be one for the ages. She was half a block ahead of him already. "Wait up, baby, damn!" he chuckled, running after her.

… … …

Once again, Rachel found herself leaned back against the door to his apartment, eagerly anticipating the moment they were alone on the other side. She looked up at him and smiled coyly, slipping her hands into jacket to rest on his stomach while he undid the locks. Sliding a hand down and tucking it into the front pocket of his jeans, she arched her hips forward a little to brush against him. He was already hard. "This is familiar," she breathed out. Her smile grew wider when he shot her a warning look and growled lowly in the back of his throat. "What?" she asked innocently, catching her bottom lip between her teeth.

"You're a tease," he bit out, a smirk on his lips as he remembered the first time he had her pressed up against his door. He thought it seemed rather fitting for them to be here just like this again after weeks and weeks of anticipation. He wasn't sure which was worse: the time before he knew what it was like to fuck her and they danced around each other in a haze of ridiculous sexual tension or these last six weeks, where he knew all too well what she was like in bed and he couldn't have her the way he wanted her. Okay, so he knew exactly which time was worse and he was glad it was about to end soon.

Rachel shook her head and pressed a kiss to his neck. "I'm in no mood for teasing tonight," she murmured against his skin.

Puck turned the final lock and opened the door. "Good," he grinned, pushing her gently into the apartment, closing the door behind them and locking it. Rachel turned away from him and peeled off her leather jacket, dropping it carelessly to the floor. Walking purposefully towards his room, she started stripping off her clothes, first her sweater, then the little tank top underneath, leaving a trail in her wake. "In a hurry, babe?" he asked smugly.

Spinning around to face him, she pulled the elastic band from her hair and let it spill over her shoulders. "Six weeks, Noah," she needlessly remind him, frantically unbuttoning her jeans. Hooking her fingers at the waistband, she shoved the denim over her hips and, with little grace, stepped free of the material. When she looked up at him again, his face cracked into a grin just before he tugged his shirt over his head and added it to the growing pile of clothes on the floor. Her eyes raked over his bare chest and she felt her heart knock hard against her ribs. He looked so amazing and it was an incredible feeling knowing they weren't going to have to stop tonight.

"Oh, I fucking know how long it's been," he replied, reaching for his belt. She looked so goddamn gorgeous walking backwards into his bedroom, a wicked gleam in her eyes and a kittenish smile on her lips, wearing nothing but a white bra and little red panties. He unbuttoned his jeans and followed her, laughing a little when the backs of her thighs hit the mattress and she tumbled back on the bed. "Your eagerness is hot, Smalls," he teased.

He barely had one knee on the bed before she grabbed his wrist and pulled him forward, toppling him in the process. "Jesus, Rach," he said laughingly, shifting his weight so it wasn't all pushed down on her tiny frame.

"Noah," she began, already a little breathless, "six weeks is a _long_ time to abstain from sex with you. I thought I was going to die." She arched up a little and reached back to unfasten her bra, pulling it quickly off her body, tossing it over his shoulder.

"Now who's being dramatic?" he said lowly with a wicked grin, his eyes dropping to her naked tits. He felt the same way though and had made his feelings on the whole sex ban crystal clear multiple times over the last forty-three days. Yeah. _Forty-three days_. Why the fuck he was still thinking and not _doing_ was beyond him. Rachel helped him out. Clapping her hand over the nape of his neck, she pulled his mouth down to hers and pressed her lips roughly to his.

Sometime between her tongue curling around his and her hands reaching down to shove at his jeans (seriously a matter of seconds) it dawned on him that this was the first time they were doing it since she became his girlfriend. And part of him figured she'd want it to be less frantic and more romantic or something, but she didn't show any signs of slowing down. He broke the kiss and bit back a smile when she whined. Her eyes were dark and heavy and full of lust as she peered up at him. "Baby, slow down a little," he told her.

Her eyes cleared and she stared at him with a concerned look on her face. "What's wrong? Are you in pain?" she asked.

"What—no," he said, his brow furrowing. "No, that's not it." And just as quickly as she'd turned off, she turned right back on again, drawing her knees up and pushing his pants down his legs with her feet. "Rach," he chuckled, grabbing her arms and pinning them over her head, securing them with one of his hands. She smirked winningly. Puck dropped his head and kissed her lazily despite her grinding her hips against his. "Know what I just realized?" he asked softly against her mouth.

"That you're teasing the hell out of me right now?" she asked, one brow arced.

Puck rolled his eyes and smoothed the hair out of her eyes before smiling down at her. "This is our first time since being in a relationship," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Once the words were out, he sort of felt like a giant pussy. But her eyes went soft and the smile she gave him in return made him feel really fucking good, so he decided that was the exact right thing to say.

"Noah," she whispered, grinning when embarrassment flooded his face and he averted his eyes. "That's sweet." The grimace on his face made her laugh; she knew he hated the term. "You can be sweet all you want later, but right now," she said, waiting until he met her eyes again, "I need you to not be sweet at all and fuck me. Okay?"

His brows shot up and a rakish smirk twisted on his lips. "Goddamn, you're the best woman ever!" he told her.

"Then I guess you'd better give me what I want, huh?" she asked, biting her lip.

"Oh, I'll give it to you alright," he said lecherously, wagging his brows. He released her arms and sat back on his haunches so he could slide her panties down her legs. She looked up at him and in the sexiest voice she'd ever used on him said, "Actions speak louder than words, Puck."

_Fuck. _

He could fall in love with her if she kept that up.

… … …

"Noah, give it to me," she ordered.

"Baby, I've been givin' it to you all night."

Rachel laughed and swung her leg out from her place on top of the counter to kick him playfully in the thigh. "Not that," she said. "Though, yes, you have, and it's been amazing. But I swear if you don't hand me that carton of spicy noodles, I'm not having sex with you anymore tonight."

He met her eyes, smirked. "Liar," he said, shoveling noodles into his mouth. They didn't have sex for six goddamn weeks, so after they refueled a little, they were going to fuck until they literally passed out. (Her idea, by the way, and he was _game_) "I offered to take you out to eat after your show, but someone was in a big hurry to get on this," he mumbled with his mouth full, gesturing to his body. "Ring a bell?"

"Please?" she asked softly, angling her head just enough for her hair to fall over one eye. She leaned forward and rested her hands on the edge of the counter and the button down shirt of his she was wearing slipped off one shoulder.

His eyes glazed over a little and he swallowed his food before he choked on it. "You're beggin' to get fucked again, Smalls," he told her seriously. "Right on the counter."

She groaned and bit her lip. "Noah—food first, please."

He walked over slowly and stood between her legs, picking up some noodles with the chopsticks in his hand and holding them up to her mouth. Rachel lifted her brow and gave him this sexy little smile before leaning forward and accepting the bite of food. She could feed herself, sure, but this was hot and he wanted to. He accidentally got some sauce on her chin, so he reached out and brushed it away with the pad of his thumb and licked it clean.

Rachel laid her palms on his chest and smoothed one up to brush over his jaw. "I'm going to starve if you keep up this seduction, Noah," she teased softly. He smirked back and handed over the carton of noodles. "Thank you."

Puck shrugged and squeezed her knee playfully, making her giggle. "No sweat." He grabbed a beer from the fridge for them to share and also made himself a sandwich. (What? All that sex made him _hungry_.) After he inhaled that, he polished off the last of the noodles when she declared she couldn't eat another bite.

"Noah, you're going to make yourself sick," she said, bringing the beer to her lips. She took a sip then set it on the counter.

"M'good," he told her, mouth full again, reaching for the beer and draining the rest of it.

She rolled her eyes and laughed quietly, hooking her feet around his waist so she could pull him closer. His hands instantly sneaked under the hem of the shirt and splayed over her hips as he nipped softly at her lips. Sighing, she wrapped her arms around him and dropped her forehead to his. So far, this was the best night they'd ever had.

They stayed that way for a while, slowly trading kisses and smiles (or smirks), fingers gently skimming over exposed skin, enjoying the quiet sound of their breathing. His lips were on her ear when he finally broke the silence.

"You really blew me away tonight," he told her. "Your show. You're amazing, babe."

Rachel tipped her head back slightly so she could look at him. She couldn't keep the surprise out of her eyes or stop the happy smile that lit up her face. "You came to my show?" she asked in a voice much smaller than the smile she wore. He swallowed thickly and nodded, slipping his hands into her hair and brushing it out of her eyes. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

Puck lifted a shoulder carelessly and dropped his hands to her shoulders. "Dunno. Just wanted to see you perform. I realized that I'd only been to your show the once and I spent most of that night drooling over your legs." He cracked a grin, but he was only half kidding.

Why her heart chose that moment to completely flip over in her chest, she had no clue. She suspected it was because he was constantly surprising her in different ways. Just when she thought she had him pegged, he'd do something completely sweet (or something totally ridiculous) and she was back on her toes. But she found that she really enjoyed being on her toes and she was a little bit in awe over just how happy she was and how happy he made her.

Their relationship was still so new, but it was so, so good.

She had this smile on her face again, but it was one that he'd never seen before and her eyes were all warm and sparkly when she looked into his. He didn't have time to even entertain _what_ that look could mean before she laid her lips over his and whispered _take me to bed_ into his mouth.

And what kind of boyfriend would he be to argue that?

... ... ...

Two more chapters to go. Feedback is always appreciated. :)


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